The Heist Society: Hale's POV
by DorkQueen
Summary: "The look in his eyes told her that if her father's safety were something he could have purchased, he would have written her a check, sold his Monet, his Bentley, his soul. She wanted to thank him, to ask why someone like him would choose to be halfway around the world with someone like her." Hale's POV of the events in The Heist Society.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The Heist Society belongs to Ally Carter, along with its plot, dialogue, and characters.**

* * *

Hale watched as a slim, slender girl strolled across the mud-tracked lawn, past the mangled fountain (he smirked; no doubt _that_ muddy reminder would last till spring). Her backpack was slung across one shoulder while she carried a duffel bag in each hand as she walked toward them and further from the Colgan School.

Hale could not stop the smile that spread across his face. Katarina Bishop was coming back.

Suddenly, merely a few feet away, she paused. Hale pressed his cheek on the window, trying to see why she had stopped.

She was being approached…by a group of Colgan boys. They were staring at her with expressions of admiration and awe that Hale knew all too well; how many times had he caught himself looking at her like that after a they finished a job? How many times had he wondered how she was so clever and talented and witty and why she would throw it all away for a boring school like Colgan? How many times had he wondered how she had managed to get him to break the most important rule in thievery: never get too attached to anyone or anything?

Hale wished he could hear what they were saying; too bad the windows of the limousine were made to keep _inside_ conversations _in_ and _outside_ conversations _out_. One of the boys seemed to have asked a question and Kat gave him a half-smile before saying something and walking the last few feet to the limo. In fact, she was standing right next to Hale now and he caught her expression when she glanced back at the Colgan one last time.

It was enough to make him feel more than a little guilty as he rethought about what he had done. If Kat wanted to lead a normal life, who was he to get her expelled and bring her back into this? Back into the world she had drawn blueprints to escape? But Hale knew she didn't fit in _that_ life any more than he did. He had seen it when she had walked across the lawn alone and no one had stopped to say goodbye to her (other than those boys but they had seen her as the tightrope walker at the circus, the one who pulled off "cool" things but was still a freak). She was too skilled for normal life, too addicted to the thrill of night-escapades and tracking men in dark coats, too caught up in a world where there was no need for social skills because the only people you can trust are the ones that have been around you for your whole life.

And then there was that _slight_ issue in Italy with Signor Taccone and Bobby Bishop…

There was no turning back now.

So Hale was amused when he heard Kat slide into the seat on the other end and say, "Well, I guess that's over."

"Actually, it's just the beginning."

The conversation in the beginning entertained Hale _very_ much as he played the confident, bored, _sexy_ billionaire he was and Kat the bewildered, naive girl (she rarely played that part—usually she was more of the slapping, kicking-you-in-the-shins kind of girl—so it was only natural that he take advantage of it whenever he could). He smirked as the realization hit her and enjoyed her momentary speechlessness. He snorted as she, yet again, failed in her attempt to guess his first name (_Wesley?_ Really?)

But although he knew he looked cool and collected on the outside, he felt his heart thumping every time he looked at the girl sitting across from him. He wanted to pull her to him and hold her and never let go because he was afraid of what would happen if he did. That she would take off again.

But he didn't dare touch her, of course, because he could never tell how she felt about him. Like right now, for instance. Was she angry at him? Was she glad to see him? Had she missed him like he had missed her? Despite his obvious attractiveness to the opposite sex (no denying it, ladies), Kat had always had him stumped.

The banter died away all too soon and she asked the question he knew she would.

"Why'd you do it, Hale?"

"You don't belong in that place." It was the truth although there were other reasons too. _Your father needs you. _I_ need you._

She wasn't satisfied. "Why'd you do it?" she asked again. "I'm not joking, Hale."

"Neither am I, Kat."

"You've got—"

"A job for you," he interrupted. "And only you," he added, seeing her expression turn stubborn.

"I don't want a job."

_If you only knew what was at stake._ "You'll want this one."

"I'm out of the family business. Or haven't you heard?"

"Fine." There was no use hounding her because he knew he'd never win like that. If Kat didn't want to do something, she didn't do it. It was one of the things he had always admired about her.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes partly. Through a slit, he looked at Kat's face, hoping he'd find even a hint of indecision, but all he saw was stubbornness. Stubbornness and refusal.

Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe she didn't miss the thrill after all. _"I'm out of the family business."_ Aloud he said, "But are you out of the family?"

* * *

Family. It was a strange word. By the scientific definition, his family was the Hales, a line of billionares that started with W.W. Hale the First. The Hales were secluded people who lived in solitary and conducted their business quietly. Each generation had one heir who would be trained to handle the family's money.

Unluckily for them, W.W. Hale the Fifth had a rebellious streak.

He moved from private school to private school, all across Europe, leaving destruction in his wake. For formal dinners he purposely put his tie on crooked and refused to tuck in his shirt. Still, his parents knew (or hoped) this disobediance and defiance would be sucked eventually, _perhaps at military school_?

But then he met Kat.

Or, more accurately, he caught Kat stealing the Monet.

The Monet that was hanging in the hall right now.

Hale bit back a smile and hurried her past the painting. Despite that she had told him her stealing days were over, he noticed a gleam in her eye that hadn't been there before.

Maybe some things would never change...

"Marcus put you in the blue room. You can go upstairs if you want. Or we can go out to the veranda and have Marcus bring you something to eat." Moonlight cascaded through the windows that lined one wall. Hale guessed it was past midnight. "Are you hungry? I didn't even ask. Do you want-"

"I want you to tell me what's going on."

Well, her focus was as sharp as ever.

"Please, Hale."

There was a pleading note in her voice. His throat felt dry and he wished he could protect her from the news he had been entrusted to deliver. Instead, he changed direction and guided her down the main hall, to the library.

He didn't know why he was bringing her there. Probably because he wanted her to see the painting.

He let her push past him-and stop. He lingered in the doorway, wanting to give her a private moment. More than all of them, Kat seemed to have an appreciation-_a connection_-with the paintings. Her bright blue eyes would fog up, as if far away, and her lips would part slightly...

"It's beautiful."

He pushed away the image of her lips. "It's Vermeer."

At this she turned. "It's stolen."

"What can I say?" He moved toward the painting and studied it. He had given it to his father for his birthday and his father had hung it on the wall behind his desk, not knowing what he was hanging up was a product of his son's dirty deeds. _What he doesn't know doesn't hurt him_, Hale thought cheerfully. "I met a very nice man who bet me that he had the best security system in Istanbul."

He paused, caught up in the memory. It had been his first solo heist and he had carried it out as smoothly as, well, a _smooth criminal_ could (just because he was a thief and a billionare didn't mean he didn't listen to pop music).

"He was mistaken."

* * *

After asking Marcus for some corned beef sandwiches, Hale got down to business. "So," he said, flashing her a smile that had melted Queen Elizabeth herself, "did you miss me?"

"No."

So she was still a good liar. Hale smirked, remembering that she had broken into the student records office for scoop on him."It really is good to see you, Kat."

"You might want to remember who I am before you try to con me."

"No," Hale said, studying his best friend, his partner in crime, the love of his life. "_You_ might want to remember who you are. You want to go back to Colgan, is that it? After I saved you from that place?"

"Colgan wasn't so bad. I could have been normal at Colgan."

_Normal. _Hale laughed. _Kat, darling, you are anything but normal. _"Trust me: _you_ would never have been normal at Colgan."

"I could have been _happy_ at Colgan."

"They kicked you out, Kat."

"Because _you_ framed me!"

_And one day you'll thank me._ "Fair enough." He casually stretched his arms, knowing Kat was waiting.

"I sprung you because I've got a message for you."

"Doesn't your family own a cell phone company?"

And her wit was still a competent opponent for his. "Only a little one." It was true though; 500 mil wasn't much in the Hale family. "Besides, it's more of a face-to-face kind of message."

"I thought my dad wasn't speaking to..." She stopped abruptly and dropped onto the couch opposite him. "So how is Uncle Eddie?"

"He's good." Hale eagerly grabbed onto this conversation tangent. "He sends his love. He says the Colgan School will rob you of your soul...but that's not the message."

"_Hale_."

"_Kat_," he mimicked and knew he couldn't procrastinate any longer. "Do you want to hear Uncle Eddie's message or not?"

"Yes."

Hale took a deep breath and blurted, "He says he's got to give them back."

"What? Uncle Eddie's got to give what-"

"No. That _is_ the message. And I quote. 'He's got to give them back.'" _And I'm just the message-carrying billionare kid who has way too much time on his hands._

She was shaking her head. "I don't understand."

"There was a job, Kat. A week ago. In Italy."

"I haven't heard about any jobs," she started and then winced, reminding them both that she had abandoned the family for three long months.

"Private collection," he continued as if he hadn't heard her. "Very high-end paintings. Very high security. Very high risk. Two-maybe three-crews in the world could have done it and-"

"My dad's at the top of the list?"

He shook his head. "There is no list. There's just-"

"Dad." Hale watched as she took all this in...and sighed, not looking as concerned as Hale would've thought. Not looking concerned at all. "So?"

_So? _Hale stared.

"So what? This is what he does, Hale. This is what we all do. What makes this time any different?" She stood up, challenging him to say different.

_She still doesn't understand. _

Before he knew it, his hand had closed around her wrist. He ignored the spark that raced through him when their skin touched. "It's different because it's different, Kat. This guy-this guy with the paintings-he's a _bad_ guy."

"I'm Bobby Bishop's daughter, hale. I know a lot of bad guys." She tried to pull away but Hale found his hands grasping her shoulders, his chest pressed against hers. _She needs to understand. _"Listen to me, Kat. He's not a bad guy like your dad and Uncle Eddie are bad guys. Like I'm a bad guy. This guy? His name's Arturo Taccone, and he's a whole different kind of bad."

They were thieves, sure. But they had rules for what they did. They had respect for the things they stole. They did not kidnap. They did not hurt people (intentionally). They did not kill people.

Arturo Taccone didn't play by these rules.

Kat shivered. She was looking at him with scared eyes now and he tried to rearrange his facial features to a less frightening expression. But the anxiety and terror was running through his veins now. "He wants his paintings back. If he doesn't have them in two weeks, then..." The sentence was left unfinished. Kat dropped back onto the sofa, speechless.

But this time Hale didn't make fun of her for it. Speechless seemed okay under the circumstances.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The Heist Society belongs to Ally Carter.**

* * *

"Good morning, young Mister Hale." 'Good morning' hardly seemed appropriate for 11:00 but Hale didn't comment.

"Where's Kat?" His voice was sharp as he made his way to the table. Even as he asked, he knew the answer.

"I'm afraid she's gone."

Marcus poured him a cup of coffee and slid a chocolate croissant onto the plate in front of him. "Her plane left at 8," he continued. "The young miss will be arriving in Paris in a couple of hours."

_Paris. _So she was going to track down her father, hopefully talk some sense into him and persuade him to return the paintings. Hale knew it was good she was taking the matter into her own hands but all he could think was _I wish she'd taken me with her._

When was she going to stop running away?

He thought about taking the private jet to Paris—but that thought was soon gone. In order to find Kat, he would have to find Bobby Bishop and Mr. Bishop was a whirl of names and faces and addresses. Besides, what would he say if he did find them? _I'm here to supervise your daughter?_ As much as he hated to say it, he had no business in Paris.

Hale sighed and stood up. On the other hand, he had plenty of business to deal with in New York.

In a few minutes, he was on the phone with his lawyer and looking at the contract papers for an insurance company he had recently bought. In the next few hours, he would be on the phone with potential investors.

After all, being a billionaire was hard work.

* * *

Hale watched the old grandfather clock tick away in the corner of the room. The handsome timepiece had been made by Thomas Tompion in the mid-1600s and had once belonged to King Charles the Second. Its hands had spun around the ring of numbers literally millions of times. (See, if one hour equaled one complete spin and there were 24 hours in a day and 365 days in a year, then each hand made about 6250 circles each year and since the clock was about 400 years old, therefore each hand had made around 2,500,000 circles so far…Hale was no Simon but mental arithmetic he wasn't so bad at)

Hale sighed. Right now the short hand was at XI and the longer hand at V. 11:25.

_There's no guarantee she'll arrive in the next hour_, he told himself. _In fact, there's no guarantee she'll arrive in the next few _days_._

He pulled his T-shirt over his head in one swift movement and changed into his Superman pajamas (because, face it, whether you're a criminal or a billionaire or just an average kid, Superman is da king of cool).

But as he stared at the dark ceiling, he wondered if the reason why she had left so early was because of something he'd said near the end of the conversation.

"_My dad used to be more careful than this."_

"_Your dad used to have you."_

He had said it unintentionally—blurted it, really. And he didn't know whether he had meant it as a compliment or rebuke.

But it had been obvious from Kat's face that she took it as the latter.

Hale rolled over to his left side. He was mad at Kat, of course. Not for running to Colgan. In fact, he might've _helped_ her if she had only told him. No, he was angry and hurt because she had dumped him out of her life without any explanations or goodbyes.

Sure, there had been signs. Like how her eyes didn't sparkle the way they used to when Bobby Bishop announced a job in Barcelona. How she spent hours on her laptop in the middle of the summer. She had told him that she was working on a "secret project" and would snap at him until he left her alone.

But the "secret project" finished in early August and extra-grumpy Kat became just normal-grumpy Kat. Hale never expected that one morning, in September, he would wake up to find a one-word note on his desk: _Sorry__ -K_

Hale had stared at Kat's scrawled handwriting, his mind a jumble. Then he had raced to the limo, ignoring Marcus' protests that he hadn't had his breakfast yet. When the chauffeur pulled up in front of the brownstone, he crossed the porch in two leaps. He rang the doorbell multiple times until it swung open with Uncle Eddie roaring, "Are you barking mad?" When Kat's father came to the door, he found the boy cowering in fear and embarrassment. Mr. Bishop's voice was sympathetic as he said, "Let him in, Eddie."

While Uncle Eddie continued to glare at him, Kat's father had explained that Kat had successfully scammed her way into the best school in the country. Hale could barely hear him over the pounding in his head. All he felt was numbness when Mr. Bishop said, "She's gone, Hale."

* * *

She was running, faster than the wind, darting through the gaps in the trees. He chased after her but she was just too fast for him. "Kat, wait up!"

The forest wasn't so dark now and he could see the shadows of the trees. There was a sense of urgency in his chest. He had to warn her before they got to the edge. "Kat!"

She finally turned and opened her mouth.

"He didn't do it."

There was something wrong with her face—her eyes were too bright and her cheeks were deeply flushed— and suddenly Hale was falling, falling, falling into the darkness…

He jumped up and reached for the light switch. The $1.2 million crystal chandelier immediately lit up, creating purple spots in his vision as he glared at the girl from his dream.

"Kat," he sighed, falling back onto his pillow. "Funny, I didn't hear a doorbell."

"I let myself in; hope that's okay."

Hale smiled. "Or the alarm."

"You're due for an upgrade."

_Dang. _He had yet to find a security system that was Kat-proof. "She returns," he drawled, glancing at the clock. _Of course Kat would just barge in at 4 in the morning._ Suddenly he remembered that they were in his bedroom and he was half-naked. He quickly crossed his arms across his bare chest. "You know, I could be naked in here."

She didn't seem affected. "He didn't do it, Hale." She dropped into a chair by the fireplace. "My dad has an alibi."

"You believe him?" A thief's pride is what leads to his demise, the saying goes…

"Normally?" Kat asked. "Maybe." She paused and admitted, "Maybe not. But I'm pretty sure he couldn't have been pulling a big job in Italy on the same night he was pulling a small job in Paris."

Hale couldn't stop the slow whistle. He had always looked up to Kat's dad as a second father and an idol. He couldn't help comparing him to Robin Hood; both he and Uncle Eddie led the merry gang, but unlike Uncle Eddie, Bobby Bishop had charm. He was _dashing_.

Hale wanted to be like him.

"He's still in Paris?" Kat nodded, her gaze locked on his as if to say _You have a brain. Work it out. _"So…what? He's got the loot stashed somewhere and a twenty-four-hour tail keeping him from recovering it and leaving town?"

Her lips tugged upward. "Something like that."

"What's he gonna do?"

"Nothing."

Hale shook his head at the irony. "You Bishops…one of you won't leave"—he cut his eyes at her—"and one of you won't stop running away."

She didn't seem to be listening. Instead, she was fingering a small rectangular card that she had pulled from her left pocket.

"What's that?"

Her hand trembled. "Arturo Taccone's business card."

Before he knew it, he was standing next to her. He stared down at the white card that bore Arturo Taccone's name printed in black letters. And the handwritten words: _Two weeks._

Two weeks. The words echoed over and over again in Hale's mind. Two weeks until...he didn't want to think about it.

"Please tell me you found that on a sidewalk somewhere."

She ignored him. "He was probably there following Dad, but then he saw me and…he gave me a ride to the airport." There was a dull quality to her voice as if she was relaying what she had for breakfast instead of a frightening encounter with a frightening man.

"Arturo Taccone gave you a ride to the airport?" He could dimly hear Kat say "Nice pants" but the sound of his heart thumping in his chest prevailed over any other noises. He was afraid now, for her. "Kat, tell me you weren't alone with Arturo Taccone."

"I'm fine." She almost seemed…bored.

"You're fine? I'm telling you, Kat. Uncle Eddie says this guy means business and Uncle Eddie—"

"Ought to know. I know."

"This isn't a game, Kat."

"Do I look like I'm playing, Hale?" He didn't mind her snapping at him. _Finally_, it was some indication that she was taking this seriously. After a long silence, he said, "Well, did you at least tell him he's after the wrong guy?"

"Of course I did, but he wasn't exactly in the mood to take my word for it."

"Kat, you've got to—" He trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

"What? Hale, what am I supposed to do? My dad doesn't have the paintings. There's no way this Taccone guy is ever going to believe he doesn't have the paintings, so what? Should I tell my father to go into hiding so he'll have a nice head start when the biggest goons money can buy start chasing him in two weeks? I don't know about you but the fact that he's got an Interpol surveillance detail watching him twenty-four-seven feels pretty good to me right now!"

Her face was red and she avoided his startled gaze. Finally the mask had fallen off—revealing a tired fifteen-year-old girl who was just as scared as he was. He softened his voice. "This guy really wants his paintings back."

"So we're going to give him his paintings back."

"Great plan. Except we don't have the paintings."

"We will." For the first time since she had barged into his bedroom, her voice was confident. "Just as soon as we steal them."

* * *

**I know this chapter is shorter than the first, so the good news is that the next chapter will be little longer, I think. The bad news is that it'll take longer to write... (but I'll try to put it up before next Monday)**


	3. Chapter 3: 13 Days Until Deadline

**Disclaimer: The Heist Society belongs to Ally Carter.**

**I've decided to follow the format of Ally Carter's book and start each chapter with the location of the gang and the number of days until the deadline.**

**Also, I corrected something in the second chapter: There was a section there that talked about Hale's reaction when he found out about Kat going to Colgan. I had assumed that Kat didn't tell **_**anyone**_** about what she had done until she was already at Colgan…but then I got to page 44 in **_**The Heist Society**_**: "But nothing had ever felt as criminal as sitting there, announcing to her uncle that her greatest con had worked and she was walking away from her family's kitchen in order to steal an education from one of the best schools in the country." So I fixed it up a little (even if her dad and Uncle Eddie knew, it doesn't mean **_**Hale**_** knew).**

**Enjoy. :)**

* * *

13 Days until Deadline

New York, USA

Hale watched Kat's face as they neared the Brooklyn brownstone. After Kat had ran away to Colgan, Hale threw himself into the criminal business with even more fervor than usual. He had eagerly accepted a job with the Bagshaw brothers in Luxembourg. The result was hours of scheming in Uncle Eddie's kitchen—and dozens of free meals. By the time they had secured the World War II docs, Hale felt more comfortable in Uncle Eddie's kitchen than he felt in his own.

But for Kat, this was as close to a home as she had. Hale remembered her telling him once about the Christmases she had spent here. When she described the stockings, which hung below the fake Rembrandt and just over the fireplace, her eyes would turn incredibly soft…just like they were now, as she stood in the doorway. Her chest expanded and contracted, and Hale knew she was breathing in the smell of carrots and cabbages.

"Take off your shoes if you're coming in," Uncle Eddie barked, startling Hale. Embarrassed, he dropped his eyes from Kat's chest to his floor (though he hadn't been looking _there_, honest) and kicked off his Italian loafers.

Kat was already hurrying behind her great-uncle. She seemed to be scolding him for the pick-pocketing incident they had witnessed earlier. Hale hid a smile and accepted a bowl of carrot soup.

_Mmm. _Uncle Eddie could give Marcus a run for his money. All Hale wanted was to eat his soup in peace but Kat wouldn't stop yammering.

"It's a different world, Uncle Eddie. I just don't want you to get into trouble."

Hale almost chocked on his soup. _Geez, Kat, have you forgotten who Uncle Eddie _is_? _His spoon scraped the bottom of the porcelain bowl, revealing the British Royal Coat of Arms that was imprinted on most of Uncle Eddie's dishes. Hale stared at the symbol, an idea forming. _No way…_ He had never thought much about it before; after all, the British Coat of Arms appeared on any product or with any company that supplied products to the royal family. But his own thought from a few seconds ago seemed to be mocking him. "Uncle Eddie, why is the seal of the British Royal Family on your dishes?"

Uncle Eddie's voice was impatient when he answered. "Because that's who I was with when I stole them."

_Okay, you are the man. _Kat seemed to be thinking the same thing as she held her bowl in her hands.

"We practice a very old art, Katarina." Uncle Eddie paused long enough to toss Hale's wallet toward him. "It is kept alive not by blood"—another pause as Uncle Eddie dropped Kat's passport onto the counter—"but by practice." _I believe you._

He turned back to the stove. "I suppose you were absent the day they taught that at the Colgan School."

Kat's face turned red. She stood there for a second, as if unsure what to do. Hale held his breath and prayed she wouldn't stomp out of the kitchen, out of the house, out of his life. He knew Uncle Eddie was waiting too, although his back was towards her.

Finally, Kat placed a hand on the back of a wooden chair and lowered herself into the seat. Hale had to refrain himself from whooping.

Kat was back in.

* * *

"Uncle Eddie, we need your help," Kat announced. She lowered her eyes. Hale knew it was killing her to say this. "_I_ need your help."

Uncle Eddie walked over to the oven and pulled out a load of fresh bread.

Kat gave Hale a look. _Help me out here._ "He didn't do it, Uncle Eddie. I flew to Paris and talked to Dad. He has an alibi, but…"

"Arturo Taccone paid Kat a visit," Hale finished for her. He knew he was feeding himself to the vultures.

Uncle Eddie finally turned around. He didn't look surprised. "Your job was to deliver a message."

_How was I supposed to know that she would run off to Paris and Taccone would intercept her? It was the middle of the night, for god's sake._ But all Hale said was, "Yes, sir. I did that."

"Nineteen fifty-eight was a good year for cars, young man."

"Yes, sir."

"Arturo Taccone is not the sort of man I would like visiting my great-niece."

If he was going down, Kat was going down with him. "She left in the middle of the night. She does that." He could feel Kat's eyes burning a hole on the back of his head. "Sir."

Kat exploded like he knew she would. "_She_ is sitting right here!"

Uncle Eddie's gaze moved onto his niece. Kat looked like she had swallowed a bowl of ice-cold water.

"I'm here," Kat said, softer this time. She looked like she wanted to say something else. _I came home? I'm not going anywhere?_ Instead, she brought the current matter back into hand. "Taccone wants his paintings back."

Uncle Eddie studied her. "Of course he does."

"But Dad doesn't have them."

"Your father isn't one to ask her help, Katarina, especially not from me."

It was cruel, Hale thought. But Kat willingly sacrificed her pride a second time. "Uncle Eddie, _I_ need your help."

Uncle Eddie took a long serrated knife and sliced three pieces of warm bread. "What can I do?" Uncle Eddie asked. _Nice try, old man. But after that show with our wallets? Not convincing._

"I need to know who did the Taccone job."

"And why would you need to know that?" It wasn't a question, though—it was a test. Of knowledge. Of loyalty. Of how far Kat was willing to crawl to get back to where she'd been last summer.

Kat didn't hesitate. "Because whoever did the Taccone job has Taccone's paintings."

"And?"

Kat looked at Hale. Hale looked back at her. He felt a grin spreading across his face when she answered, "And we're going to steal them back.

"Eat your bread, Katarina." Kat obeyed and Uncle Eddie continued, "This is a serious thing you're trying to do. Who, may I ask, is this _we_ of which you speak?"

Hale opened his mouth to list a few names—in particular, the name of a long-legged blonde with Kat's eyes. But before he could speak, Kat answered, "Hale and I can do it."

_Um, Kat, you know I love you, but I don't think this is meant to be a two-person job._

Uncle Eddie was talking. "Then this is a _very_ serious thing. I'm afraid it might be difficult to accomplish from the Colgan School."

It was cruel, Hale thought again. But it was also an effective way of getting Kat to recognize her priorities.

Kat lowered her gaze and told her uncle what he already knew. "It turns out the Colgan School and I have had a parting of ways."

"I see."

"We need a name, Uncle Eddie," Hale said. Whatever it was between Uncle Eddie and Kat seemed to be settled. _Now_ would he help them?

"People genuinely like your father, Katarina." There was a pause. "Although _why_, I do not understand. But he has friends. Let me make some calls. It might take a day or two—"

Kat's face was turning red again. This time, though, Hale suspected it was from anger. "We don't have a day or two. We know you can find out who did the Taccone job, Uncle Eddie." She stood up, towering over her uncle. "If you can't or won't tell us, we'll find someone who will. But it has to be done." She took a deep breath. "_I_ have to do it."

If there was anyone who could stand up to Uncle Eddie, it was Kat.

"Finish your soup, Katarina," Uncle Eddie said, but Kat didn't stand; she didn't eat. Uncle Eddie studied her headstrong niece and Hale could've sworn he was fighting back a smile. Finally, he stood up and walked over to the pantry, where he pulled out a thick roll of long paper.

Hale glanced at Kat. Her eyes were as wide as his as they wondered what could possibly be on the roll of paper.

"The man who did the Taccone job…" Uncle Eddie said slowly as he pushed their meals away and laid the roll on the end of the table. "We don't know who he is. We don't know where he is." Kat's face visibly fell. Just then, Uncle Eddie gave a flick of his wrist. In a flash, the scroll unfurled on the table, and Hale was staring at the most elaborate blueprints he'd ever seen.

Uncle Eddie smiled grimly. "But we know where he's been."

* * *

They left when Uncle Eddie declared an old man needed his rest (but not before leaning over and whispering into Hale's ear, "Call Gabrielle"). It was dark and cold outside, and starting to rain. As Hale buttoned up his heavy wool coat, he couldn't help missing the warmth of the kitchen.

Kat shivered. Without even thinking, Hale put an arm around her. She was wearing a light fleece jacket—no match for the chills of December.

To Brooklyn pedestrians, they probably looked like a couple. Boy and girl, boy's arm around girl. Maybe they were on their way to the movies.

Or maybe that was just Hale wishing.

Kat's words echoed in his mind. _"I could've been normal at Colgan." _Not for the first time, he wondered what would've happened if they had met under other circumstances. If he was just a normal boy instead of a billionaire's son and she was a normal girl instead of a criminal mastermind's niece.

But then he wouldn't be Hale and she wouldn't be Kat.

Heavy drops of drizzle fell from the sky and he shook his head of these thoughts. "You ever seen that much security on one set of blueprints before?" he asked.

Kat shook her head. "No."

"So whoever did it was really smart," Hale said.

"And really stupid."

Hale felt his lips curve up. "Remind you of anyone we know?"


	4. Chapter 4: 12 Days Until Deadline

**Disclaimer: The Heist Society belongs to Ally Carter.**

* * *

12 Days Until Deadline

Las Vegas, USA

"So these are the smartest people in the world, huh?" Everywhere Hale looked, he saw men wearing bowties and rumpled name tags.

Kat was scanning the crowd. "At least one of them is."

Hale skimmed through the conference program. _The focus of this conference will be on the relationship between science and mathematics and how continual communication between the two fields have led to new advances in medicine, innovative technologies, and new theories and applications in mathematics… _His eyes fell upon the list of concepts to be discussed. _Probabilistic algorithms, sustainable energy, robotics, wireless sensors, biomedicine, computing, nano-science…_

The words started to blur. Luckily, their job was not to understand "probabilistic algorithms and models that arise in the study of physical systems." (What the heck did that even mean?) Their job was to find the guy who _did_ understand probabilistic algorithms and _enjoyed_ listening to lectures in Arabic about them. "Where is he?"

"By the projector. Fifth row. Center aisle," Kat muttered. Her baby blues seemed to dull as the lecture progressed.

Hale inched closer to her. His lips were almost touching her ear as he whispered seductively, "You know, I don't know that both of us really have to be here…I could go make some calls…check on some things…"

Her eyes snapped back into focus. "Play some blackjack?"

_Dang._ "Well, when in Rome…"

"Rome is tomorrow, babe."

"Right." She shushed him and he slouched back into his seat. Kat had no right to shush him; she wasn't even looking at the professor! From the slight tilt of her head, he knew she was actually looking at their target from the corner of her eye. He doubted she was listening to him either; the language spurting from the speaker's mouth was as foreign to her as it was to him.

"Do you understand any of this?" he said, pointing to the lines and symbols that covered the massive screens.

"Some people understand the value of an education."

Hale ignored the jab and put his arm around her. "That's sweet, Kat. Maybe later I'll buy you a university. And an ice cream."

"I'll settle for the ice cream."

Hale's grin widened. "Deal."

They were in the overly air-conditioned ballroom for over an hour. Hale's hands were turning numb from the extreme air conditioning before Kat grabbed Hale by the forearm and stood up. They would miss the rest of the second lecture—sustainable energy, according to the program—but Hale was only too happy to go.

When they slipped through the open door, Hale was face-to-face with the boy he hadn't seen since Turkey. _This_ was the boy who had hacked the National Bank of the Republic of Turkey.

"Hi, Simon." Hale peered at the name tag that was beginning to curl on the edges. "Or is it Henry?"

"How'd you find me?"

Hale raised his eyebrow. Simon glanced at Kat. "Never mind."

It had been Kat's idea to come to Las Vegas when they had heard about National Science Day and the International Conference of Science and Mathematics on the news. For all Simon's success with following electronic trails, Kat was better equipped with her natural instincts and perception. She had an uncanny knack for knowing where people were and where they would be headed.

"How's your dad?" Kat asked, yelling over the ringing machines and screaming tourists. They continued with the pleasantries for a while, but Hale knew Kat wasn't really paying attention. Hale glanced at the security camera hanging high above a game of roulette. _They don't even try to conceal them._ As he turned his head back, he caught sight of two muscle-packed goons trailing behind them.

_Uh-oh. _"Um, Kat…" he began, but she interrupted, "Let's go find a blind spot." Hale closed his mouth, figuring she already knew about their trackers.

As they walked through the maze of the casino floor, Simon started yammering about the lecture and the new advances in technology. There was admiration in his voice when he talked about the geniuses and legends who'd given talks that morning at breakfast. Hale didn't understand half of what he was saying.

"You know you're smarter than all of them, right?" he said flatly. "If fact, if you wanted to prove it…" He glanced at the blackjack tables and Kat gave him a warning look.

Simon shook his head. "I don't count cards, Hale."

"Don't?" Hale repeated. "Or won't? You know, technically, it's not illegal."

"But it's frowned upon." Sweat beaded at Simon's brow. Hale rolled his eyes. _Cut yourself a break, man. We're already criminals. Why not give yourself a little something extra?_ "It is _seriously_ frowned upon."

They found a table outside, near the edge of the crowded pool, away from the cameras and guards. Simon took the chair beneath the umbrella. "I burn" was all he said, much to Hale's amusement. Who was he, Mommy's little darling?

Clear green eyes peered out from thick glasses. They darted from him to Kat and back, and Hale was reminded that Simon was not completely innocent. "Is it a job?"

Hale stretched out on the lounge chair. His legs were still cramped from the lecture. "More like a favor."

Simon seemed to deflate. Kat was quick to add, "For now."

_Money. _Hale knew it couldn't buy you everything. It couldn't buy you safety (security systems can only do so much) or good health (Hale had heard that his father's brother had been diagnosed with cancer). But it could buy you a lot of things, especially if you had a lot of it.

The blueprints were spread out over the glass tabletop and Simon was looking at them with interest. "Are these the Macaraff 760s?"

"Yep."

Simon whistled—or tried to. It came out sounding like a wounded bird's cry. "That's a lot of security. Bank?"

_If only._ Kat shook her head.

"Government?"

"Art," Kat said.

"Private collection," Hale added. This made Simon glance up. "Yours?"

Hale gave a startled laugh. "I wish." And he did. The value of Taccone's paintings probably would've put Hale's Monet to shame. The person who stole them knew that.

Simon's eyes grew wide. "Is it our objective to make it yours?"

Hale grinned. _In other circumstances, yes. It would be a big, fat yes, consequences be damned. _His grin faltered and he looked at Kat. _Should we tell him about Taccone's threats?_

She shook her head slightly. _Not yet._

Hale leaned closer to Simon. "It's not exactly a typical operation."

Simon's attention was fixed on the blueprints. He studied them in silence for a whole ten minutes before reluctantly looking up. "In my professional opinion, I'd say it's a pass."

Hale's heart sank. He already knew Taccone's place would be hard to break into, but now it was being confirmed by an experienced hacker.

"Unless this place is Fort Knox," Simon continued. His eyes shone. "Wait a second. _Is_ it Fort Knox?"

"No."

"Then I wouldn't hit it," Simon advised, pushing the blueprints away.

Kat bit her lip. "It's already been hit," she revealed.

"Your dad?"

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Kat said through gritted teeth. Hale felt a twinge of sympathy for her. Bobby Bishop's legendary reputation was now backfiring on him.

He raised his head and looked Simon in the eyes. "We would like very much to know who hit it."

"Who hit this?" Simon jabbed his finger at the center of the blueprints, but Hale could tell he was stumped. "It's not a big list, I can tell you that."

"The smaller the better, my friend. The smaller the better." _One name. All we need is one name._

"Can I keep these?" Simon asked. He seemed quite content to sit and stare at the blueprints for hours.

"Sure," Kat said. "We've got a spare set. And, Simon…thanks."

Kat stood up, her shoulders hunched over. This made her look smaller than her already short height of 5' 2. Hale felt another wave of pity wash over him, along with a desire to protect her. Kat was so brilliant and strong that sometimes he forgot that she was two years younger than him. Fifteen was too young to be burdened with the mission of saving her father.

"That's why you're back, isn't it?" Simon's voice cut through Hale's thoughts. He blinked and glanced at Kat, whose expression was as unreadable as ever.

"Yeah," she said, releasing a breath. "It's kind of…"

Simon waved her away. "I don't need to know. I was just wondering if it had anything to do with those two guys who have been following us since we left the lecture."

Hale expected Kat to say "I know" or "It took you that long to notice?" or some other snappy comeback. He was not prepared for the sight of surprise spreading onto her face. He was stunned, frankly, when she whirled around and blinked at the sight of the goons.

How had she missed them? They hadn't even tried to blend in among the tourists and high rollers. No, Goon 1 and Goon 2 were five hundred pounds of European muscle that loomed over the crowd.

Kat looked absolutely furious and disgusted with herself, and Hale felt guilty for criticizing her. He slipped his hand into hers and squeezed it. _Everybody gets distracted sometimes._ And it wasn't the first time she slipped up. Yet as they hurried away from the pool, Hale couldn't help but think _Colgan._

Kat glanced back. "Kat?" Simon asked.

"Keep walking."

* * *

"Okay, first thing tomorrow we hit the streets around Taccone's place," Kat declared as they walked across the tarmac.

Hale smiled, remembering the call he had made right before they had left for Vegas. "I got it covered."

"The DiMarcos might be in town."

"Actually, they're in jail."

"All seven of them?" Her mouth fell open.

Hale shrugged. "It was an interesting October." He didn't really like them that much anyways. They were too snooty when it came to food, and Hale had gotten into a heated argument with the youngest son Antonio over the origin of pizza. (Technically, it originated in China…)

Kat just stared at him for a few seconds before closing her mouth. 'Okay, then we should call—"

"I said, I've got it." Kat stopped in her tracks and stared at him.

"Define _got it_."

"Hey, I'm more than just a delightful travel companion, you know. I'm not exactly friendless." _It's actually pretty easy to make friends when you're a billionaire._ He didn't mention that she was his only true friend.

"Who?" Kat asked.

"A _friend_." Oh no, now that Barney song was stuck in his head.

He felt the Kat's vise-like grip around his arm. "A friend of yours? A friend of mine? Or a friend of ours?"

She would keep persisting until he gave her an answer. He broke free of her grip and stepped back, hands in pockets. "Are we going to have a problem, Katarina?"

"What?" she said. There was an innocent expression on her face. "I'm just wondering who he is? Someone you and the Bagshaws used in Germany?"

The careful use of the words _he_ and _used _didn't escape Hale's attention. "Luxembourg, actually," he corrected. He looked away. "Technically, the Bagshaws and I did a job in Luxembourg."

He didn't want to see the hurt expression on her face. "You were gone, Kat."

"I know."

"You were at Colgan." His chest tightened. The old hurt he had tried so hard to bury was coming back now.

"I was only there three months."

_You left me. _"That's a long time, Kat. In our world, that's a long time." He paused. "Besides, your heart left a long time before the rest of you followed."

Her expression hardened. "Well, I'm back now." She started for the plane. "And there's a really small list of people who can do this thing and an even smaller list you can trust to do it so—"

Hale gritted his teeth. He didn't need her lecturing him about this, not when _she_ was the one who left for three months. "Your dad and Uncle Eddie weren't the only people you left when you went away, you know."

There. It was out there.

Kat turned around. Their eyes met and her face softened. Hale continued, "Either we're a team or we aren't. Either you trust me or you don't." He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and took a step toward her. "What's it going to be, Kat?"

All he needed to hear was _I want you with me, Hale. I need you by my side._

Kat stared at him. She opened her mouth and closed it. She didn't seem to know what to say. But that wasn't true. Katarina Bishop always knew what to say.

_No,_ Hale realized, _she's just afraid to say it._

"Hale, I—"

"You know what? Never mind. Either way, I'm in, Kat." He turned his face away from her and slipped on his sunglasses. He didn't want her to see the disappointment on his face. "I'm all in, Kat."


	5. Chapter 5: 11 Days Until Deadline

**Disclaimer: The Heist Society belongs to Ally Carter.**

**Sorry, got some writer's block. :| Anyways, this chapter is dedicated to ReaderGirl98 and The One You Never Suspected. :3 Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me so far! :D**

* * *

11 Days Until Deadline

Sabina Valley, Italy

"Hello, Kitty Kat."

Hale smirked as he watched emotions flit across Kat's face. Astonishment. Disbelief. Exasperation.

Hale gave the girl the one-over. His eyes traveled from her long blond hair, which flowed freely down her back, to her glittery Christian Louboutin pumps. His eyes stopped for a second on her short, short skirt. _Whoa._ She hadn't been wearing _that_ three months ago.

The girl raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him and smiled sweetly. Wickedly. _Like what you're looking at? _

_Um, too much leg. Way too much leg._ Hale averted his eyes, although there was a smile growing on his face. The two cousins couldn't be more different. Unlike Kat, Gabrielle flaunted her body. She demanded attention. She _wanted_ to be looked at and chased after and touched.

"Hey, handsome."

Partly because he honestly liked Kat's cousin and partly because he sensed Kat watching, Hale wrapped his arms around Gabrielle's waist and pulled her off the ground in a hug.

* * *

Hale choked back a laugh as he watched Kat eye Gabrielle's short skirt. Her eyes flickered to him. Hale immediately leaned toward Gabrielle. As if catching his cue, Gabrielle draped arm through his.

Jealousy looked good on Kat.

"Hale, Kat's not being very nice to me," Gabrielle whined as they walked through the narrow streets of Sabina Valley.

Hale smirked. "Kat, hug your cousin." Kat switched her glare to him. Neither girl moved in the pause that followed.

"It's good to see you, Gabrielle," Kat said through gritted teeth. "I thought you were in Monte Carlo. The Eurotrash Circuit."

Hale choked back a laugh. Gabrielle did one of her hair-flips. "And I thought you were in study hall. Guess we were both mistaken."

Kat pursed her lips and resumed glaring at her cousin.

"So where's Alfred?"

_Alfred? _There was a smug smile on Kat's face at Gabrielle's slip. "You mean Marcus?" Hale corrected.

"Whatever." Gabrielle did another hair-flip and reached in her pocket. "Happy birthday."

The disdained look in Kat's eyes disappeared. Hale casually thrust his hands in his pockets. His right hand brushed the sharp edges of the photos Gabrielle had just passed to him.

Oh, yeah, Gabrielle was much more than just a pretty face.

Kat seemed to reluctantly accept this. "How's your mom?"

"Engaged." Gabrielle gave an exasperated sigh. "Again."

"Oh," Hale said. He remembered the last wedding, which he had attended with Kat just about a year ago. It had been very refined. Very black and white. And it had been the first time—and hopefully not the last time—Hale had seen Kat in a dress. "Congratulations."

"You could say that. He's a count, I think. Or maybe a duke. Which one's better?" Gabrielle's mom tended to go for rich men with noble titles.

Dukes were higher up, but on the other hand, a higher rank meant a higher sense of self-importance. Before Hale could tell Gabrielle this, they came to a low stone wall. Beyond it, vineyards stretched out across the Sabina Valley. A river sliced through the fertile land while sheep grazed on a distant hill.

It was beautiful, he supposed. _I'll tell Mother to contact the real estate agent._

Hale leaned against the wall and took out the pack of photos. The first one showed a massive compound near a lake. He flipped through the photos that zoomed in closer and closer to the compound until he was staring at the same walls and lines as modeled in the blueprints.

He pushed himself off the wall. "This is as close as you got to the house?"

Gabrielle chomped on her gum and shrugged. "You mean to the _fortress_? Seriously nice picking, guys."

"We didn't pick it," Kat reminded her. Her voice was tight.

"Whatever. The place has a fifteen-foot stone wall." She motioned with her hands.

"We know."

"Four perimeter towers. With guards."

Each word was a stab to Hale's confidence, but Kat just rolled her eyes. "We know."

"And a moat. Did you know that, Miss Smarty-pants? Did you know there's an actual moat? Like with _things_ under the water?" Gabrielle blew a bubble at her and pretended to shiver. Hale knew she had added that last part because of all things, Kat was afraid of water.

A flicker of indecision crossed Kat's face, but then it was gone. "Fine. What about the police report?"

Hale stared at her and Gabrielle laughed.

"You didn't check with the police…at all? You didn't ask them about…anything?" Kat looked incredulous.

"Men like Arturo Taccone don't call the police, Kat," Gabrielle reminded her. "Those of us who don't abandon our families are able to learn these things." Uncle Eddie's hits came slowly and deliberately until he had you cornered. Gabrielle went straight for the pounce.

Kat looked hurt. "Geez, I left for a few—"

"You left." Gabrielle's voice was colder than the wind. "And you'd still be behind your ivy-covered walls if we hadn't…" Hale met her apologetic blue eyes with a glare. "You'd still be there."

But she had slipped. First on the _ivy-covered walls_, then on the _we_. Hale saw the wheels turning in Kat's head. "Gabrielle, how'd you know there was ivy at Colgan?"

Gabrielle shrugged and said something like "Don't countryside schools always have ivy-covered walls?", but Kat was already turning to Hale. "_Gabrielle_, Hale? It wasn't bad enough that you got me kicked out of school, but you had to use _her_ to help you!"

There was mock-anger in her voice, but there was also real hurt. Hale shook his head. _You were gone, Kat. If it wasn't for us, you'd still be gone._

He winked at Gabrielle and gestured at Kat. "She's adorable when she's jealous." _Ow._ His shin would never recover if Kat kept kicking it like that. "Hey! It had to be done, remember? And contrary to popular belief, I don't know that many girls." This was met with stares. "Okay, I don't know that many girls who have your special skills."

Gabrielle batted her eyelashes. "Oh, you do know how to make a girl feel special."

But Kat still looked embarrassed. And hurt. She avoided his eyes when she looked at him. "I'll see at the hotel." She turned to her cousin. "And I'll see you at Christmas or at one of your mother's weddings or…something. Thanks for coming, Gabrielle. But I'm sure there's a beach somewhere that wishes you were on it, so I'll let you get back to your business and I'll get back to mine."

Hale and Gabrielle exchanged looks. They had known Kat would be like that. It was _so_ typical of her to insist on doing things by herself. But this was no ordinary job. They needed Gabrielle. She had proved her worth in Luxembourg—she was just as graceful as Kat and more usefully, she could flirt her way out of anything.

Gabrielle's face changed. She took a deep breath and called, "You think you're the only person in the world who loves your dad?"

Kat stopped and slowly turned back. The two cousins stared at each other, challenging the other to back down. Kat's clear blue eyes were narrowed as they scrutinized her cousin.

Hale wondered again at the similarities between the two girls. They were the strongest girls, both physically and emotionally, that Hale knew. They both had a hard edge, a sharp tongue. There was no room for softness in their world. Emotions were considered weaknesses and so they were hid their hearts—Kat's behind her glares and sarcasm, Gabrielle's behind her pretty clothes and legion of suitors. They were cons within themselves.

"You need me," Gabrielle said. Hale watched as Kat cocked her head. There was no doubt in Gabrielle's voice. No flirt. No ditz. This was one of the rare moments where she broke through the con.

Kat closed her eyes. Hale could see her lips tugging up reluctantly. _Stubbornness runs in the family._

Gabrielle sensed her victory. "Like it or not, Kitty Kat, the reunion starts now."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: The Heist Society belongs to Ally Carter.**

* * *

Gabrielle's driving was terrifying.

As the car swerved past a tall evergreen tree, barely missing it, Hale had to know, "How did you pass your driver's test?"

"I didn't" was her reply.

The car turned to the right. Hale smashed into the car door. The fact that Gabrielle owned a tiny European car with no seatbelts didn't help matters.

Gabrielle looked at him in the rear mirror and grinned. "What, you don't like my driving?"

"My birthday is coming up in three months, you know. I'd rather not miss the party."

"You're welcome to take the wheel if you want."

The thing was that Hale didn't have a clue how to drive and Gabrielle knew it. Why learn when he had chauffeurs? Out of all of them, Gabrielle was the only one who had _any_ experience behind the wheel.

"Gabrielle!" Kat snapped as they nearly ran down a farmer. The man shook his fist at them and yelled something in Italian. "Keep your eyes on the road!"

"Sorry!" Gabrielle yelled as they hurtled down the road.

Hale closed his eyes and moaned.

* * *

Miraculously, they made it to Arturo Taccone's home in one piece. Hale had closed his eyes for the rest of the trip so he couldn't say how many near-death experiences they had avoided, but judging from Kat's face, it was a large number.

They sat quietly as Gabrielle parked the car. Hale looked out the window. All he could see was darkness. There were no stars, no headlights, no sounds. In other words, it was the perfect setting for a nighttime mission.

Hale pushed open the door and stepped outside. Kat stood near him. Gabrielle was a few feet away, in front of the car. She had popped open the hood and was disabling the engine.

He stretched and looked down at Kat. Her eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. She pulled on her hood. All three of them were wearing black sweatshirts to blend into the night.

"Tell me again why _I_ had to ride in the backseat."

"The billionaire always rides in the back, big guy." She moved to pat him on the chest. It was meant to be a friendly gesture, but Hale felt a spark at her touch. Before she could pull away, he caught her wrist and held her hand against his heart.

Although she was wearing gloves (black, of course), his heart pounded faster at the touch. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

She looked at him. He wished he could see her eyes. "This is our only idea."

"Kat, I—" _I'll follow you wherever you need to go._

"Coming?" Gabrielle's whisper sliced through the night, cutting him off. Kat hesitated before turning and fading into the darkness. Hale followed.

They started up the steep embankment. Kat stepped on some fallen branches. They snapped, creating the sound of firecrackers. She flinched.

As they made their way up, it was clear that Kat had become the clumsiest. She stumbled a few times, almost tripping once. Hale had to steady her so she didn't fall. He expected Gabrielle to make some cutting comment, but she kept silent. Once, she actually reached out a hand, as if to help, before letting it fall back onto her side.

Finally, they reached the top of the hill. Gabrielle pointed. "That's it."

They dropped to the stomachs in a synchronized move. Then three hooded heads looked down at the villa below. In the nighttime, Arturo Taccone's home was illuminated by hundreds of lights, the only bright thing for miles. It was as dazzling as a diamond.

Diamonds were hard to get.

Hale looked at his companions. Gabrielle caught his glance and raised an eyebrow. _Now you see what I mean? _And Kat…Kat was still looking at the mansion. He knew she was staring not at the intense brightness, but at the guards and towers. She was taking in the fortifications, the walls and the gates.

He and Gabrielle waited for her to say something, but she continued scrutinizing. Her mouth was set in a straight line.

"Groundhog?" he suggested finally.

"No time," Kat replied. Her voice sounded detached. "The tunneling alone would take days, and Taccone wouldn't leave these woods unpatrolled for that long."

"Fallen Angel?"

"Maybe. But even on a night with no moon, that inner courtyard is awfully small to risk someone seeing you or your parachute. And no one builds guard towers if they aren't going to fill them with guards."

"With guns," Gabrielle added. She turned onto her back, rested her head on her arms, and stared up at the sky. Hale wanted to laugh. Replace their current setting with the beach and she would totally fit in with the other tanners.

Kat was silent.

"So someone either Trojan Horsed or Avon Ladied or…" He knew he was rambling and that no one was listening, but _someone_ had to ease the despondent mood that had fallen upon them.

Suddenly Kat pushed herself up. "Get down!" Gabrielle hissed, but Kat was already on her feet. She moved toward the edge of the ridge.

"Where are you going?" Hale whispered, scrambling up. Kat kept walking. She seemed to be heading for the drawbridge. _What was she doing?_

"Kat!" Gabrielle hissed again. "You're going to get caught."

Kat finally turned around. There was a flash of white when she smiled. "I know."

* * *

"I can't believe it."

Hale was fuming. It was like she had ignored all the dark looks he had sent her. _You left me._ It was like she had simply tossed away that moment they had before they came up here. _Don't ever do that again._ It was like she had forgotten about their conversation on the tarmac, just before they left Vegas for Italy.

"_Do you trust me?"_

He should have waited until she answered the question. He should have let her know how he felt before they came here.

And now she was gone. Again.

"Does she think that she can just march right up to Taccone's doorstep and demand that he leave her father alone?" Hale continued.

Gabrielle shrugged, examining her nails. "Kat can be scary when she's mad."

Hale stared at her. What was with these Bishops and their lack of emotion? He grabbed Gabrielle's shoulders and shook them hard. "Do you even care? She's your cousin, for god's sake. She's _fifteen_. There's no telling what Taccone might do to her."

"First of all, ow," Gabrielle said coolly. Hale realized he was gripping her shoulders. His hands fell down to his sides and he mumbled an apology.

"Yeah. Second of all, you have no right to accuse me of being unfeeling. Of course I'm worried. I just don't show it by taking my temper out on other people." She paused and Hale felt his face redden. He hadn't meant to hurt her.

"If you're angry because I stopped you from going after her, trust me when I say it would've done no good. Taccone might go easy on her, but you're just more bait for him." Gabrielle pursed her lips. "I also know that if anyone can handle Taccone, it's Kat. I trust her. And if you don't, then you shouldn't be here."

"_Do you trust me?"_ "I know, Gabrielle," Hale said, thoroughly embarrassed now. "I'm sorry. It's just that…I can't believe she went off by herself. Without even warning us."

Gabrielle looked at him. Hale couldn't tell whether she was amused or sympathetic. "You're still mad at her. About Colgan."

Hale blinked. They hadn't discussed _that_ since the night they trashed Headmaster Franklin's car. "What do you mean?"

"I mean the way you flirt with me in front of her," Gabrielle said, a smile on her lips, "even though three months ago, you said you had no interest in me." She looked at him. "Kat's back, Hale. We broke her out of Colgan, remember?"

She looked like Uncle Eddie right then. Like she was testing him. "She's back, but she's _not_," Hale said slowly. He remembered that morning when he discovered she had gone to Paris without him. For a moment, he had felt like she was gone again. "Why do I feel like she's changed?"

Gabrielle shook her head. "She's a thief, Hale. When life gets tough, we run." This time the look in her eyes was definitely sympathy. "Kat hasn't changed. This is just how we are."

"So you're saying that…"

"You love Kat," Gabrielle said. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. "And she's going to break your heart."

* * *

**I AM SO PROUD OF THIS CHAPTER OK. :D 90% of it is original stuff and I'm proud of how the conversation between Hale and Gabrielle turned out. Anyways, I've already written 1/2 of the next chapter (I was originally planning to condense it into this chapter but changed my mind), reviews make me so happy, and I'd really appreciate feedback for this chapter in particular. ._.**


	7. Chapter 7: 10 Days Until Deadline

**Disclaimer: The Heist Society belongs to Ally Carter.**

**Aw, thanks for all the super-nice reviews guys. :) You're all so freaking sweet.**

**(And just saying, I don't mind criticism either :D)**

* * *

Hale flopped onto the sofa, at the left end. Gabrielle sat next to him and to the right of her, sat Kat.

He hadn't spoken to or looked at either girl once. Especially not _her_. Not since the drawbridge lowered and she came marching out (though he was relieved that she hadn't gotten chopped into a million pieces). Not in the car or the elevator. When he did look at her, he focused on her damp hair. On the silver disk tucked under her arm.

He knew she knew he was furious at her. He could feel those laser blue eyes watching him. But she hadn't tried speaking to him either. Not once.

The television flickered. Hale leaned forward, expectant. Ghostly black-and-white images flashed across the screen. A long entryway…a large modern kitchen not different from Hale's…a wine cellar (he recognized a few of the brands)…a billiards parlor…a private study…and an empty room…

"Stop." Kat's voice rang out.

Gabrielle hit the PAUSE button. The image froze on the empty room—and then Hale realized it wasn't exactly empty. There was a bench near the far wall. Above the bench were five rectangular shapes. _The paintings._

"Blueprints." Hale was already rolling the thick paper onto the coffee table.

"Here." Kat pointed to a room on the plans that had the same dimensions as the one on the screen. "Looks like it's located underground, probably only accessible here." She tapped on the blueprints. "A hidden elevator in Taccone's office."

"How do you know that?" Gabrielle asked.

"Because I'm pretty sure I was standing right in front of it tonight." Hale felt his body stiffen, but he kept his mouth tightly shut. He could have a heart-to-heart with her later. Right now they had to focus on the mission.

He reached for the remote and pressed PLAY. The video showed off the other rooms in the mansion before it flickered back to the office. Taccone's office, he assumed.

Floor-to-ceiling windows dominated one wall, so it was easy to see the bolt of lightning that flashed through the sky on the screen in front of them. A split second later, the screen went black.

They all realized it at the same time. "_Benjamin Franklin._"

They waited until the tape resumed. "How long until the generators kicked on?"

"Forty-five seconds," Gabrielle answered.

"Not bad," Hale said. It beat his own system—the one in New York—by 2 seconds.

"For Taccone's system or our guy?" Gabrielle asked.

He shrugged.

"Everything else went black, but this room…" Kat pointed to the vault-like space that filled the screen. "This room must be on a separate feed from the rest of the house. _This room_ kept recording. Looks like it's directly under…"

Her voice trailed off. On screen, water began dripping from the gallery ceiling.

"_The moat._" Again, their voices rang in unison.

"_Cool._" For a moment, Hale even forgot his anger with Kat. "Benjamin Franklin with a side of Loch Ness Monster." _Sweet. _He was going to add "moat" to the renovation's list for his own house.

"Ew!" Gabrielle exclaimed. Hale rolled his eyes. It was these moments that he remembered he was hanging out with criminal mastermind _girls_. "The moat is disgusting. Seriously. No way would I go near it."

"From what I could see, there were at least five Old Masters in that room, Gabs," he reminded her. "You'd go near it."

"Maybe," Gabrielle admitted. "But if he cut a hole in the ceiling of a room under a _moat_, then why isn't it flooded?"

"He rode a mini-submarine in from the lake and then sealed it to the room's roof. After that, all he had to do was open the hatch, cut the hole, and…" Kat shook her head. There was disbelief in her voice. "A mini-submarine."

Gabrielle turned her head. "How do you know?"

"Because that's what Dad did." A silence fell over them as they remembered why they were scoping out Arturo Taccone's home in the first place. "Two years ago. Venice. It was—"

"Beautiful." Hale finished.

"Risky," Kat corrected. Hale tried not to snort. _Look who's talking._

"Well," he said slowly, "at least now we know why your dad is Taccone's leading suspect."

"Only suspect," Gabrielle corrected.

They fell silent again. On screen, a masked man in a plain black wet suit was easing through the fresh hole in the gallery roof. They watched as he neutralized the pressure switches on the individual paintings and removed them from the wall, packed each carefully in a watertight case, and slid them through the hole in the ceiling.

"Taccone said that when the power went out, someone looped the video feed to the guard's station, so no one saw a thing. What we're watching is from an off-site backup system that our guy either didn't know about or missed." Kat shrugged. "However it happened, no one even knew those paintings were gone until Taccone got home from a business trip."

A _business_ trip. That was one way of putting it.

"What kind of business is he in?" Gabrielle asked.

"The business of being incredibly scary," Kat answered at the same time Hale said, "Evil."

Two pairs of blue eyes swung to his face. Hale could've told them about the parties he had went to, the high-ranking Italian officials that had gotten drunk, the private investigators that had revealed more than they should have. He could have told them about the murder of ex-KGB officer Anna Zefirov and her seventeen-year-old daughter. The network of assassins rumored to be working for Taccone.

But all he said was "Arturo Taccone is in the business of evil." And from the way they looked at him, the way Kat cocked her head as if seeing him in a new light, he knew they believed him.

He tossed the remote on the table. "So maybe I'm going to handcuff myself to you the next time you decide to take a stroll."

"I was fine," Kat insisted. "He…likes me. I amuse him. He thinks I'm like him."

The words chilled Hale to the bone. "You're not," he blurted. There were two types of criminals. There were those like Kat and the Bishops, and then there was Arturo Taccone. They were separated by a definite line, the same line that separated right from wrong. Hale looked into those pools of blue for the first time since they left Taccone's villa. "You are _not_ like Arturo Taccone."

Gabrielle's voice broke through their staring contest. "How deep would the river that runs to the moat be at its shallowest?"

Kat shrugged. "Eight feet?"

Hale agreed. "I'd say ten at the most."

"How small would the sub have to be?"

"Small," Kat said simply.

"Note to self," Gabrielle said. "When it comes to moats, deeper isn't necessarily better."

Hale thought about moats and mini-submarines, Kat's father and the craft he had used in Venice. "_How_ small exactly?"

* * *

10 Days Until Deadline

Naples, Italy

Hale's parents had insisted he learn Italian as long with French and Latin. "So you can finally listen to operas and fully appreciate them," his mother had said.

(That hadn't happened.)

Now, as Hale strolled down the busiest street in Naples, he was grateful his parents had made him take those lessons. He stopped at a building looming above the two restaurants flanking it. The sign read _Il Negozio di Mariano & Figli_. In plain old English, it was the Mariano & Sons Dive Shop.

This was where Mr. Bishop had gotten his equipment two years ago for the infamous Venice heist. This was where the most advanced (and most expensive) watercrafts in the world were sold. And this was where they hoped to find some answers.

Hale strolled through the double glass doors and past the dozens of vehicles on display. He was a billionaire—_on a mission_. He walked up to the counter and removed his sunglasses. "_Ciao_," he said, smiling at the young woman standing before him. "I was wondering if you could help me."

"_Sì_?" The salesgirl was smiling back. She was around Kat's age. Very pretty. Olive skin, brown eyes, long black curls.

"You see, I have a very important question," Hale said smoothly, "that few people can answer." He leaned across the sleek glass counter, looking into her eyes. "But you look like a very smart girl."

Hale held out his hand. "W.W. Hale the Fifth. But call me Hale."

"Lucia." She shook his hand, but didn't let go. "So what's the question?"

From the way Lucia batted her eyelashes, Hale knew she was hoping he would ask her out. This made him feel slightly guilty. _Maybe later I'll ask for her phone number._ "Well—"

"There you are." Kat was panting—or at least pretending to be—as she walked up to the counter.

"Hi." Hale pulled away from the salesgirl's hand (man, Italian girls have seriously strong grips) and gave Kat a look. _What_ was she doing here? Hadn't they agreed that, since they were dealing with a sales_girl_, Hale would have the best chance of coaxing something out of her? He searched her eyes, but all he found there was impatience.

"Dad says you have thirty minutes to make it back on board or else we're leaving for Majorca without you and telling your mother you fell overboard." Kat turned to Lucia. "Of course, I voted for actually pushing him overboard." She sighed loudly. "I'm his sister."

"_Step_sister," Hale added.

Lucia smiled uncertainly.

"Are you almost finished?" Kat asked with some genuine annoyance.

"Yeah," Hale said. He waved his hands around at the vessels surrounding them. "They've got some cool stuff."

Kat rolled her eyes. "So are you going to buy one or aren't you?"

"Uh…yeah," Hale said, walking around the showroom. _Crap, where is it?_ He knew he had seen it when he first walked in… "I kinda like this one."

He was standing in front of the _Sirena Royal_, the smallest non-military underwater vessel in the world. Their one and only lead.

"Yeah," Hale said, taking a step back to admire it. "I'll take this one."

"_Eccellente, signor_!" the salesgirl exclaimed, trying to catch his eye. Hale jerked his head in Kat's direction. "You've got the credit card, don't you, sis?" _You know what to do._

Kat followed Lucia to the back. When she passed him, their fingers brushed and soon his Platinum Card was glinting in her hand.

"If I may be honest, Lucia," he heard her say, "my dear stepbrother is a bored little boy. He likes toys."

Both of them glanced at Hale, who smirked. He picked up a model of the _Langston 50_, a world-class racing yacht, and began making bubble noises.

"Three years ago he convinced his mother to buy a villa on Lake Como because he needed a place to play." Kat paused dramatically. "The year after that, he bought an eighty-foot yacht because he needed something to play _on_."

Hale used his model to dive-bomb a cup full of pencils. The pencils fell to the floor with a clatter. The expression on Lucia's face was now less flirty and edging toward annoyed.

Kat's voice lowered until he could no longer hear her. He could only imagine what dastardly tales she was spinning about him.

Hale glanced over the showroom, bored. His eye fell upon the _Sirena Royal_ again. Before he knew it, he was had strapped himself inside the small vessel and was bombing unsuspecting foes.

He was having _way_ too much fun.

"I knew it!" Kat cried, startling him. She threw her hands up. "I told my brother that the Bernard brothers would already have—"

Lucia's soothing voice cut her off. Hale's hand paused on the controls.

"Well then, I'm afraid…" Kat turned away from Lucia.

"But he didn't live in Italy!"

Kat turned back, slowly. "Oh, really?"

"Oh, yes. Mr. Romani." Hale hardly dared to move, in case he started whooping. _They had a name._

"Romani?"

"Yes," Lucia said again. "Visily Romani. He was very specific—he wanted his _Sirena_ delivered to Austria."

"Austria?"

"Yes, directly to one of his estates. Near Vienna."

* * *

They had a name _and_ a place.

Hale glanced at Kat, who sat next to him. There was a rare smile on her face as she stared out the window. Her eyes were brighter than ever.

Hale felt himself smiling. He turned his head and looked affectionately at the girl resting on his shoulder. Gabrielle, who was in every way Uncle Eddie's great-niece. Gabrielle, who looked as cute as a kitten in her sleep. Gabrielle, who had asked him in Luxembourg how far he was willing to go to get Kat back.

The first flakes of snow were falling outside. Kat had fallen asleep, her cheek pressed against the window. There were still unspoken questions between them, but for the moment, the tension had eased. Hale reached for a blanket and draped it over her. Then he, too, closed his eyes as the train raced to Austria.


	8. Chapter 8: 9 Days Until Deadline

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

9 Days Until Deadline

Vienna, Austria

Marcus had been in the Hales' household for as long as Hale could remember. Sure, Hale knew the face of the maid who cleaned his room (a young woman who always blushed when she saw him) and the housemaid (a middle-aged woman with severe grey eyes), but Marcus was the head servant. He was the only one Hale had ever spoken to and was familiar with.

Yet Hale had never felt any particular attachment to the elderly man. His parents were always polite to Marcus, but never treated him as an equal. Hale had been taught early that his servants were not his friends. They were there to serve him. After all, his parents were _paying_ them.

And Marcus never dared to step outside his role. He never said a word more than he had to. He never offered his opinion when it was not asked. Hale supposed he was a very good butler. But when he spotted Marcus on the crowded platform, he wondered. What was Marcus's personal life like? Was he married? Did he have children?

And what, Hale wondered, did Marcus think of Hale's _other_ life? He hadn't seen any reason for Marcus to accompany them to Vegas or Italy (after all, their original plan had been to scope out the place), but Marcus knew about their exploits. Hale doubted there was much in the household that Marcus did not know.

So why hadn't he told Hale's parents? Perhaps Marcus thought it was not his right to meddle with their personal affairs? Or was Marcus keeping secrets for Hale's parents as well?

"Did you have a nice trip, miss?" Marcus's dry voice awoke him out of his thoughts. His butler seemed to have a soft spot for Kat.

Hale buttoned up his coat. The air outside was frigid compared to the stuffiness of the train, and Hale was glad that Marcus had already arranged for a car. No one spoke on the car ride or said a word as they walked throught he hotel lobby. Hale's thoughts returned to Visily Romani. Was he really here, in Vienna?

No one expected that when the elevator doors opened, they would be face-to-face with an old man who had traveled thousands of miles to meet them.

"Hello, Katarina."

* * *

Hale watched as Gabrielle rushed at Uncle Eddie, gushing at him in rapid Russian, and Kat stood aside, looking on with slight envy.

"It's good to see you, little one," Uncle Eddie said, beaming at his beautiful niece. He eyed her short skirt. "I only wish I were not seeing quite so much of you."

Gabrielle didn't even register the insult. "It's good to see you too. But how did you—"

Uncle Eddie shook his head. He settled into the chair closest to the fire and looked up at Kat. "You have been to see Signor Mariano?"

Kat didn't answer. She didn't need to.

"Visily Romani." Uncle Eddie spoke to them all, but his gaze remained on Kat. "This name is not unfamiliar to you?"

"Is it an alias?" Kat asked.

"Of course."

"And the shipping address here in Austria?" Hale added.

"You have indeed been busy." Uncle Eddie chuckled, but his expression grew serious. "I only wish it were not for nothing."

"Who is he?" Kat persisted.

"He is no one." Uncle Eddie's eyes passed to Gabrielle. "He is everyone."

Something flickered in Gabrielle's eyes and then was gone. Hale was glad when Kat spoke for all of them. "I…I don't understand."

"It's a Chelovek Pseudonima, Katarina."

Gabrielle drew a quick breath. Kat blinked. And Hale lamented the fact that despite Kat's coaching and all his efforts to assimilate himself into the family, he would always be a foreigner.

"What's a Chelovek Psuedonima?"

The two girls turned to him at the same time. They looked like they had been awakened from a deep slumber, like they had forgotten he was in the room. Hale's frustration grew. "What? What's wrong? What is a Chelovek Psuedo—"

"Alias Man," Gabrielle whispered, cutting him off. Hale had never seen her this way. _Scared_. "A Chelovek Pseudonima is an Alias Man."

_Oh, great. Care to tell me what an Alias Man is?_

Kat was staring at him, as if she could read his thoughts. "The old families…They had names—aliases—that they only used when they were doing things that were too big, too dangerous—thing they had to keep hidden…even from each other. They were secret names, Hale. _Sacred names_."

Hale felt a chill run down his spine, although his mind was in a jumble.

"If Visily Romani were real, he would be four hundred years old and the greatest thief who'd ever lived," Uncle Eddie added.

Hale shook his head. "I still don't understand."

"It is an alias that is not used lightly, young man," Uncle Eddie answered. His eyes narrowed at Kat. "It is a name that is not used by simply _anyone_."

Uncle Eddie rose from his chair. "This is finished, Katarina." He walked toward the door. "I will tell your father. I will try to make amends with Mr. Taccone."

"But—" Gabrielle was on her feet.

"A Pseudonima is a sacred thing!" There was that word again. _Sacred._ "Any job done in the name of Visily Romani will not be undone by children!"

Hale had never been spoken to like a child and he doubted any of the others had either. Yet nobody said a word as one of the best thieves in the world walked away.

"You may go back to school if you wish, Katarina." The old man put on his hat as Marcus reached for the door. "I'm afraid this is beyond even you now."

* * *

Gabrielle broke the silence. "Well, that's that." She stood up, the con falling back into place. It was like she had already forgotten about the Chelovek Psuedonima. "I think I'll spend the rest of the winter working the ski chalets in Switzerland. Forget about Brits or Aussies; Swiss boys are _hot_. You know, while we were in Naples, I met this Swiss boy named Sven and he had the _yummiest _cheekbones. He was such a flirt, too."

"Gabrielle, we can still…"

"We can still do _what_, Hale?" Gabrielle's voice was high. "If it's really…it doesn't matter. Uncle Eddie said he'll handle it."

She stalked out of the living room. Hale turned to Kat. Were they really going to give up now? After all the progress they had made in Italy?

Like on the train, Kat's eyes seemed far away. There was a blank expression on her face. Hale felt his heart pound. What if she was in shock?

"Marcus, could you get us some of those Austrian dumpling things?" Hale searched his memory for the name of the sweet pastries he had eaten with his parents three years ago. "Germknödels?"

Marcus nodded. "I'll be right back."

Kat's eyes flickered as Marcus slipped out the room. "You know we could always…" Hale started, but Kat was already up, already moving toward the door.

"I'll be back…" She stopped, as if she could feel Hale's steady gaze on her. _Don't go. _Her eyes softened. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was "I'll be back soon."

And then she was out the door.

Hale sat by himself. He could feel the heat of the fire through his clothes. He could hear Gabrielle talking on the phone in one of the bedrooms. "Oh, Sven…"

Hale was tired of always being left.

Before he knew it, his coat was in his arms and he was pushing open the door. He walked into the cold, prepared to chase after the girl he loved.

* * *

He found her just outside of a bakery. She was staring through the window at the rows of homemade breads and pastries.

Hale went inside and bought two cups of hot chocolate. When he came out, she was still standing there, her arms wrapped around herself to keep warm.

"If you die of pneumonia, I'm pretty sure there are at least a dozen guys who'll try to kill me and make it look like an accident."

Kat didn't turn around. Hale handed her a cup and buttoned down his black wool coat. It was when he draped it around her shoulders that she finally spoke.

"What do we do now, Hale?" Kat's voice cracked at the end. "What do we do now?"

"Uncle Eddie said not to do anything," he said carefully. He placed his arm around her and steered her down the sidewalk. They walked slowly, their footsteps imprinted in the snow. "Do you trust Uncle Eddie?"

Kat's reply was swift. "Of course. He'd do anything for me."

Hale hated what he had to say next. "What would he do for _your dad_?"

Kat was silent. Uncle Eddie did not fix other people's messes. Especially not those of an outsider.

"We're crazy," Hale said, shivering without his coat. He took Kat's arm and tugged it toward a nearby café, but Kat remained where she was. Her eyes were out of focus again.

"What is it?" Hale asked, stepping closer.

Kat closed her eyes. Hale wondered if she was trying to shut the world out. "Kat. I said—"

"Why doesn't Taccone go to the police?"

The question surprised Hale. Why did she keep bringing up the police? For Hale, the answer was obvious. "He doesn't like the police. And he doesn't want them getting their nasty fingerprints all over his pretty pictures."

"But what if it's more than that?" Kat persisted. "Why keep them hidden under the moat? Why not have them insured? What if…what if they aren't really his?"

Her eyes were dancing with new possibilities. "Warsaw. We need to go to Warsaw."

* * *

**Ugh. Not my best writing.**

**I wanted to write about Hale's attitude toward Marcus because, well, I find Marcus an interesting character. I also wanted to show an arrogant side of Hale (he has a private jet. And like, he can go and do whatever he wants. How is he not spoiled?)**

**This was also a hard chapter to write because Kat kind of shuts down emotionally and I don't know how to write angsty stuff. a;slakfjsd;f I'll edit it eventually and get more of Hale's FEELINGS in there, but right now...eh. I need a break.**

**Disclaimer: The Heist Society belongs to Ally Carter.**

**Aw, thanks for all the super-nice reviews guys. :) You're all so freaking sweet.**

**(And just saying, I don't mind criticism either :D)**


	9. Chapter 9: 8 Days Until Deadline

**Disclaimer: The Heist Society belongs to Ally Carter.**

**YAY I FINALLY UPDATED. :D I apologize for the long wait. This chapter is dedicated to Beckisaurs for being such a sweetheart and unknowingly guilt-tripping me into updating. Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

**Also, a blooper: In Chapter 7, I say that Gabrielle's mom's maiden name is Bishop and that Gabrielle uses Bishop as her last name, but HarryGinnyRonHermione pointed out that Bishop is Bobby's last name and therefore, Bishop wasn't Irina's maiden name. I've fixed it, but thanks for pointing it out!**

**Feel free to point out any other mistakes, including grammar! I'm afraid I rely on Microsoft Word for that stuff. :D**

* * *

8 Days Until Deadline

Warsaw, Poland

It was four o'clock in the morning, and Hale and Kat were standing outside a small gray house in Poland.

_Kat's little ideas always come at the worst times_, Hale thought. He held back a yawn. For Kat's sake and his own, he hoped that this wouldn't lead to another dead end.

The door abruptly opened, revealing a tall, gaunt man with a shock of white hair. "_Wer ist da? Was wollen Sie? Es ist mal smach ehr früh?_" He sounded very much like a man who had woken to the sound of knocking and wanted to go back to bed.

"_Ich entschuldige mich für die Stunde, Herr Stein_," Kat spoke. Her voice came out a bit rough, as she had barely spoken on the plane. Mr. Stein studied her critically.

"You would prefer English, would you not?" Mr. Stein finally said. Hale was surprised at his flawless, accent-less English.

"I'm fine either way."

Mr. Stein cocked his head to Hale. "I believe your companion would not agree."

Hale yawned, not bothering to suppress it this time. Kat gave him an apologetic glance before turning back to elderly man. "We're sorry for the hour, Mr. Stein. I'm afraid we just arrived in Warsaw. We would have waited—"

"Then wait!" the man grumbled, starting to close the door. Hale quickly put out his foot.

"I'm afraid we don't have the time to wait, sir," Kat said. _Yeah, I didn't sacrifice a proper night's sleep for nothing._

Mr. Stein was glaring at him. "My time is valuable too, _fräulein_. Almost as valuable as my rest."

"Of course," Kat agreed, pulling off her black ski cap. Strands of dark hair waved in the wind and her eyes were bright with energy. "We have some questions, sir…about art."

The man stared at her. Recognition flashed across his face before he shook himself. "Try the Smithsonian, pretty American girl. I'm just a crazy old man with too much time and too few friends."

"Sir, I was told that you could help me."

"By whom?" Hale had the same question. The two waited for Kat's answer, one in sleepy exasperation and the other in anticipation.

"My mother."

* * *

Hale took a long sip of hot coffee. It was bitterer than what he normally took, but it did its job. His brain was slowly waking up with each sip of coffee and taking in every aspect of Abiram Stein's cluttered existence.

"Don't you have a computer?" he said, breaking the silence.

The elderly man scoffed. "He _is_ the computer," Kat answered.

Mr. Stein was nodding appreciatively. _Well, at least one of us is making a good impression._ "I manage to maintain a good deal of my research—" he tapped his head—"in safe places. But I have a feeling that my organizational systems are not why you're here."

"We were traveling and we had some questions—"

"About art," Mr. Stein said with a roll of his hands, gesturing for Kat to get to the good stuff.

"And my mother always spoke highly of you." Kat was laying it on a bit thick, Hale thought.

"You remember your visit here?"

Kat nodded. "My cocoa was too hot, so you opened a window and held the cup outside until it caught some snowflakes." She smiled. There was a wistful expression on her face. "I drove my parents crazy for a month after that, refusing to take anything but fresh snow in my hot chocolate."

Hale shifted. It was the first time he was hearing Kat talk about her childhood. It made him weirdly jealous that she had had one and that it included catching snowflakes in hot chocolate.

Mr. Stein, on the other hand, looked as if he had seen a replica of his favorite childhood toy in a shop window—happy that something he loved wasn't entirely gone from the world. "You were so little that day. And so much like your mother. You lost her too soon, Katarina. We all lost her too soon."

"Thank you. Your work was very important to her."

"And does your appearance here mean that you've made a discovery relevant to our work together?"

Kat shook her head. "Unfortunately, I'm here on another matter."

Mr. Stein leaned back in his old wooden chair. "I see. And what sort of matter would this be?"

Hale felt his heartbeat quicken. He glanced at Kat: _Can we trust him?_ Her reply was simple: _We have to._

"The kind of matter my mother did when she _wasn't_ researching here. With you." Kat tensed, but Abiram Stein just smiled. There was a knowing look in his eyes. "I see."

"We need to know," Kat went on. "_I_ need to know if these…_mean_ anything to you."

Hale was pulling out the five pictures—grainy images from odd angles captured from the video footage—and handed them to Mr. Stein. The elderly man laid them across the cluttered desk and sat for a long time, whispering quietly in a language Hale didn't recognize. He glanced at Kat, who shrugged and was waiting patiently. Mr. Stein seemed to have forgotten that they were in the room. He was studying the images as if they were a deck of cards and he were a fortune-teller, trying to read his own fate.

"These…" Mr. Stein said finally. His voice was sharp as he demanded, "How? Where?"

"It's…" Kat stumbled. Hale knew that she was trying not to reveal too much, but not to lie either.

"We saw a sort of home movie recently," he interrupted smoothly. "Those were on it."

Mr. Stein's eyes grew even wider. "They're together? All in one place?"

Hale nodded. "We think so. It's a collection we—"

"This is no collection!" Abiram Stein shouted. The emotion and volume in his voice startled both teenagers. "They are prisoners of war."

held up a photo of a painting: a graceful young woman in a pale white dress stood behind a curtain, peering out at a stage. "Do you know what this is, young man?"

Hale had spent hours studying the five pictures and yet still could not identify the paintings. "It looks like Degas."

"It is. It's called _Dancer Waiting in the Wings_." The man pushed himself out of his chair and crossed the room to a filing cabinet overrun with books and magazines and creeping plants that draped all the way to the dusty floor. He opened the drawer and removed a folder, and brought it back to his desk. "I presume you are a well-traveled young man. Tell me, have you seen that painting before?"

Hale shook his head.

"That is because no one has seen in more than half a century. Johan Schulhoff was a banker in a small but prosperous town near the Austrian border in 1938. He had a lovely daughter. A beautiful wife. A nice home." Mr. Stein opened the folder to a family portrait, of which _Dancer Waiting in the Wings_ could be spotted in the background.

"This painting hung in their dining room until the day the Nazis came and took it—and every member of his family—away. None of them was ever seen again." He stared at the photo. Tears gathered in his eyes as he whispered, "Until now."

Kat and Hale sat quietly as Mr. Stein told them about Renoir's _Two Boys Running Through a Field of Haystacks_, a Vermeer called _The Philosopher_, and a Rembrandt of the prodigal son. And, if possible, he grew even more serious as he held the final image toward them and proclaimed it _Girl Praying to Saint Nicholas_. Even Hale was struck by the irony.

Mr. Stein studied Kat closely. "Your mother used to sit in that very chair and listen to this old man rant about the lines on maps and laws in books that, even decades later, can stand between right and wrong. Countries with their laws of provenance," he scoffed. "Museums with fake bills of sale."

"And that is why your mother came into this room…She told me that sometimes it takes a thief to catch a thief." His eyes shone. "You're going to steal these paintings, aren't you, Katarina?"

Kat opened her mouth, then closed it. Hale came to her rescue again. "Mr. Stein, I'm afraid it's a very long story."

The man nodded. "I see." His face was suddenly weary, and Hale thought that maybe he _did_ see. Here was a man who was moved to tears by the atrocities the Nazis had done to the art world, who was helping them even though he knew who they were and what they did. Here was a man who knew that the line between right and wrong was blurred.

* * *

They stood on Abiram Stein's front steps, in the same spot that they had stood forty minutes earlier. Hale glanced at Kat and squeezed her hand. The troubled expression on Kat's face didn't clear, but he got a squeeze in return. Then she let go and Hale stepped down to the sidewalk.

He had realized that it had been hard for her to come here and face the ghosts, and it was going to be equally hard to say goodbye. He knew she'd appreciate the final few minutes alone with Mr. Stein. He was already at the car when he heard Mr. Stein say "I thought perhaps you were here because of what happened at the Henley" and quickly turned back. "What happened at the Henley?"

Mr. Stein laughed a quick, throaty laugh. "You two should know better than I. It was—" Mr. Stein's voice dropped, but Hale saw the word formed on his lips. _Robbed._

"Or so they say," the man added with a shrug.

There was a small smile on Kat's face. "Don't worry, Mr. Stein. I'm afraid I've been in no position to rob the Henley."

"Oh." The older man nodded. "I know. The police, they are looking for someone already—a man named Visily Romani."


	10. Chapter 10: 7 Days Until Deadline

**Disclaimer: The Heist Society belongs to Ally Carter.**

* * *

7 Days Until Deadline

London, England

The first thing Hale did after landing in London was take a nice, long, hot shower. The second thing he did was order four first-class plane tickets with the starting locations of Miami, Paris, and Ulaan Baatar (Hale idly wondered what awful chaos Bagshaw brothers were creating in Ulaan Baatar, but decided he didn't really want to know). The final destination for all four tickets was the same: London.

Then he and Kat set off for the Henley. It was smaller than he expected, but he wouldn't know if it lived up to its name of being a world-class art museum. He and Kat were there for one exhibition only.

"He was here," Kat said when they finally made it inside. Hale wondered if he detected a bit of veneration in her voice.

"Yeah, except he didn't _take_ anything."

"He was _there_." She pointed to the five paintings that hung along the gallery's far wall. Two days before, Visily Romani had left his card tucked inside the frame of the center painting.

"Why break in and not take anything?"

"Why break in and _leave_ something?"

Kat closed her eyes. Hale knew she was putting herself in the Visily Romani's shoes, searching for answers to their questions.

Hale's mind drifted off. While Kat was trying to piece together Visily Romani's mind, Hale was still struggling to figure out Kat. There had been a time when he thought he knew her—but then she slipped off to Colgan, leaving him wondering whether he knew Kat Bishop at all. She was a thief, Uncle Eddie's niece—but when Hale replayed the conversation between Kat and Abiram Stein, he saw a deeper part of her. The Colgan con wasn't just a con. It wasn't just an act of rebellion against her family. Kat had done it for deeper, more personal reasons pertaining to moral obligation and that fine line between right and wrong…

Just as something clicked in Hale's mind, it seemed like Kat had made a revelation too. Her voice rang clear in his mind, scattering his thoughts. "What if that card wasn't all he left?"

Hale started. "What?" He refocused on the mission at hand. _One thief mastermind. Five stolen paintings._ He stared at the gallery wall. _Five remaining paintings. One clever girl._

"No," Hale breathed. He stared at the paintings, and then Kat. "Why would someone break into the Henley to leave five priceless paintings…behind five different paintings?"

It wasn't the _who_ anymore. It wasn't the _what_, _when_, or even the _where_. It was the _why_. Why was Visily Romani doing this? What was his plan? "Why would someone do that?"

Kat looked like she was tired of always being one step behind. "I don't know, Hale."

"But why would—"

"I…I don't know." Kat's face was hard. She suddenly turned, leaving the exhibit hall and starting down the Henley's grand promenade.

"Somebody's playing games," she hissed when Hale finally caught up to her. Her voice grew higher, louder. "Somebody's having fun! And he doesn't care that other people are going to get hurt because of it."

Hale placed his arm around her shoulder, moving her so that she faced him. Her eyes were shining with angry, unshed tears. Suddenly he knew why Kat had wanted to leave the family business behind. She had foreseen this, had sensed that there was a world apart from the fun and games, where there were real consequences and unscrupulous characters and shady dealings. _My parents' world_, Hale thought bitterly. _The world I had tried to escape from._

"I know," he tells Kat in a low voice. "But maybe it's a good thing."

"Maybe it's what? Taccone's after my dad, Hale. Taccone—"

"Maybe it means we've found them. And if they can be found…"

Kat blinked. This time, her eyes shined with a different kind of light. "They can be stolen."

* * *

"This is nuts. Stealing from this Visily Romani guy—whoever he is—that's one thing. But stealing"—Kat stopped, glanced at the back of Marcus's head, and lowered her voice—"from _the Henley_?"

When the car stopped, Kat and Hale got out. "I mean, even if we did," Kat continued, "it's the Henley."

"Yeah."

"No one has ever stolen a painting from the Henley."

"Yeah." Hale hid his smirk. Kat had been quiet the whole car ride, probably trying to think of other options. But she didn't seem to have had any luck, judging from how she was trying to talk him (and herself) out of his idea of robbing the Henley.

"We'd be stealing five."

"Well, technically, we'd be re-stealing them," Hale corrected. "It's kind of like a double negative."

"Assuming we could do it, it'd take a big crew."

"Yeah, and no one really likes you."

The corners of Kat's mouth twitched. "We'd need gear—the good stuff. The really expensive stuff."

"Too bad I'm only good for my looks. And my better-than-average singing voice."

Kat rolled her eyes. "_Seven days_, Hale."

This time he had no response, no solution. But he saw the resigned look in Kat's eyes that admitted they had no other option.

"Mr. Stein—"

"Don't think about it," he cut her off.

"They aren't Taccone's paintings, Hale," Kat said quietly. And Hale knew that that was the real reason behind her reluctance.

"First, we save your dad, Kat." He stared into her clear blue eyes, daring her to protest. "First, we rob the Henley." When she nodded silently, he put his arm around her and led her to his family's country house. Inside, he wondered why he wasn't as affected by the morality of what they were doing as Kat. Was it because he wasn't as good of a person? Or was it because like Abiram Stein, he had realized the line between right and wrong was blurred? _Don't think about it_, Hale advised himself like he had advised Kat. _Focus on the mission._

"We're gonna need people," Kat was saying as Marcus opened the big double doors. "People we can trust."

Hale nodded, hiding a smile.

* * *

"I had a hunch," Hale said simply, helping himself to one of Marcus's famous finger sandwiches. The look on Kat's face had been priceless when she saw the Bagshaw brothers, Simon, and Gabrielle waiting for them in the library.

Hale sat back as Kat took the role of the leader and explained what they had been up to. He waited as she dropped the first three bombshells: 1) They would be doing this without Uncle Eddie's permission 2) They were up against Visily Romani 3)There was no compensation for finding the paintings. Hale was not surprised when all four declared they were in. He would confidently bet all the money in his bank account that they would still stay after Kat dropped the final bombshell (they were robbing the Henley).

Really, Hale just wished they could start already.

* * *

**I know, it's a short chapter. And it's centered around morality, which is always a sappy topic. But Ally Carter never tells us why Kat left her family for the Colgan School, and I wanted to write a bit about it.**

**Also, I feel like overall, the transition between the chapters isn't very good and it's very likely that I'll rewrite this someday-after I finish the whole story, of course.**

**Anyways, thanks for all the sweet reviews! Criticism is encouraged, as always, and happy new year! :)**


	11. Chapter 11: 6-5 Days Until Deadline

**Disclaimer: The Heist Society belongs to Ally Carter.**

**I just read Perfect Scoundrels and it's absolutely amazing. :D **

**** MILD SPOILERS FOR PERFECT SCOUNDRELS ** **

**As you've seen from the summary, Kat and Hale are girlfriend/boyfriend and just a;sdldjfa;fj they're so cute together. The book opens up with the scene where Kat first meets Hale stealing the Monet. Hale's cold, greedy family is featured in the book and you can really see the constrasts with Kat's warm, loud family. There is a bit more romance than in the past two books, which made me really happy and fangirl-ish, and let me just say that the book met all my expectations and more. **

**** END SPOILERS ****

**I was kind of surprised by how canon this story is after reading Perfect Scoundrels and how all my guesses about Hale's family and stuff were pretty accurate. :o Of course, the story definitely needs some editing and rewriting, but for now enjoy this chapter. :)**

* * *

6 Days Until Deadline

London, England

"Everyone had a fun day?" Hale didn't even try to hide the tension in his voice.

"I've had better," Simon replied weakly after a pause.

"I'm sure you and Kat had so much fun sightseeing and taking selfies," Gabrielle grumbled. She flung herself onto a plush leather couch and plopped her sore feet on the coffee table. The others followed, though they were careful to keep their distance away from the grouchy girl.

"How's the tech stuff coming along?" Hale asked, turning to Simon. After an exhausting day of scouting the Henley museum, the team needed good news. There must be _something_ useful they had learned.

The genius shrugged. "There's more than a few kinks." Hale didn't ask him to elaborate, knowing that he was waiting. They were all waiting. Where was their leader, the slippery Kat? Hale knew it was a futile question. No one knew the answer and yet everyone knew that Kat had a tendency to do things by herself, her way. Hale asked himself again why he hadn't brought the handcuffs.

"My day was pretty eventful," Gabrielle said loudly. "After all, blacking out from touching a painting is just an once-in-a-lifetime experience."

There was a silence weighed down by increasing guilt. Gabrielle continued, "And waking up in an ambulance with second degree burns is just a spectacular finish to your day, you know?"

"We'll get you more ice," Angus said apologetically and the Bagshaw brothers hurried out of the room.

Hale stretched out on the window seat. Outside, the sky was overcast. "So."

"So."

"So."

Simon blew out a huff of laugher that sounded more like a Chihuahua drowning. "I can't believe we're really robbing the Henley. Is Kat out of her mind?"

"Yup," Gabrielle said. "But we already knew that."

Simon was shaking his head. "She's been out of practice for three months and when she returns, what risky, convoluted scheme does she come up with? We're robbing the safest, most heavily guarded museum in the world with no planning and a six-person team."

"Kat has always had a tendency to go for the most ridiculous operations," Gabrielle said, shrugging. "And she usually pulls them off too."

"It's in the genes," Simon proclaimed. "If you think about the Bishop genes and her dad's—and we all know Bobby Morgan Bishop is the most reckless person in the world, don't remind me of that time in Iceland—it's not really a surprise that Kat is so—so…"

"Impulsive," Hale said flatly. "Nomadic." Simon and Gabrielle fell silent. He knew he ruined the mood, but he didn't apologize—he couldn't help it, he was just so worried about Kat. She kept sprinting off and he had a nasty feeling that one day she was going to fall. He prayed that that day, he would be there to catch her.

"Do you think we can actually pull this off?" Hale asked quietly. He looked at Simon, whose mind was filled with algorithms and equations Hale could never understand. His gaze shifted to Gabrielle, who repeatedly surprised him with her perceptiveness and spot-on instincts.

"Well, the numbers don't look very good right now—" Simon started.

"Do you believe in Kat?" Gabrielle interrupted, looking straight at Hale. He considered the question seriously, but didn't hesitate to answer "Yes".

"—but there's still a factor that I haven't calculated in yet and that's what information Kat brings back," Simon finished.

_Kat, where are you?_

* * *

She finally came in with the Bagshaw brothers. As usual, her face was unreadable.

"Welcome back," Hale said. "So glad you could join us."

Her expression slipped a bit. As Simon filled her in on the technical news and Gabrielle attempted to guilt-trip her, Hale kept seeing her wide eyes and her fear and he felt his heart sink. There was something wrong.

Four hours later, they were still brainstorming, but the suggestions were coming less frequently and were higher up on the impossible scale. They had run out of steam. Gabrielle yawned. Hale didn't dare ask Simon what the numbers were now.

Kat looked tired and frustrated and _distracted_. There was something else on her mind that was taking away her attention and focus, something that was making her give up hope. He said the words before they registered in his mind, "We need to call Uncle Eddie."

"No." The voice that answered was Gabrielle's. "Uncle Eddie said no. Don't you guys get it? If he said no, then…"

"_We_ have to do it," Kat finished. Resignation, not determination, filled her words. Hale knew that the others could see it now too.

"You see these, Kat?" Hale gestured to the plan-covered windows. "One of these plans might work—maybe—for the best eight-man crew in the world. Except"—he turned and pretended to do a headcount—"yeah, there are still just six of us."

"We can do it with six."

"Six makes it risky."

"Yeah," Kat said, raising her eyes to his. They were glaring at him now for challenging her and yet Hale couldn't help but smile. "So was serving as the grease man when Dad robbed the Tower of London when I was five, but I did it."

"Good times," Angus said.

"You were late tonight," Hale reminded her, not willing to let her off the hook just yet. Kat bit her lip. He could see the wheels turning inside her head as she debated whether or not to tell them what was the matter.

She turned around. "Gabrielle, thanks. And um…moisturize. Simon, when I'm gone, figure out how to get eyes and ears in there."

So that was how it was going to be. Hale struggled not to let the hurt and disappointment show on his face. , Fine. He'd just have to figure it out for himself.

"Sure," Simon said. "We could run a…Wait. Where are you going?"

And Kat was yet again walking away, taking her suitcase from Marcus at the doorway.

Hale sighed. "Paris? Say hi to your dad."

* * *

5 Days Until Deadline

Wyndham Manor, England

The door behind him was kicked open with a loud bang. "Hale, be a darling and schedule an appointment with your hair stylist for me, will you? I think I have more split ends today than I've had my whole life."

Hale gritted his teeth, not bothering to turn around. "I'm busy. You schedule it yourself."

"Um, hello? Burnt fingertips that sting every time I touch something?" The super-annoying blond supermodel waved a hand in his face. "And what do you think you're doing, searching through Kat's bedroom?"

"Technically, it's not her bedroom; it's the guest room that she's staying in." He continued pulling open drawers. Oops.

"That doesn't make it less creepy that you're searching through her room. And was that her underwear drawer?"

"Go away, Gabrielle."

"Not until you tell me what you're searching for. I'm advocating for female privacy here."

Hale turned around reluctantly. "You saw how Kat was yesterday. She's hiding something."

Gabrielle snorted. "And have you considered that maybe she didn't want you to know for a reason?"

Hale didn't reply. When his foot touched a section of the rug, a _squish_ sound had been made. Slowly, he crouched down and peeled back the rug, exposing a large manila envelope underneath. After a two-second hesitation, he swiped the envelope and put it in the inner pocket of his vest.

He heard thumps as Gabrielle appeared in the doorway of the room, her face flushed. She had left the room without him knowing and now her wide eyes told him that something bad, something _extremely bad_ had happened.

"Bobby Bishop's been arrested."

There was only one word to sum that up and Hale let it slip from his mouth. "Crap."


	12. Chapter 12: 4 Days Until Deadline

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heist Society.**

**For those of you who have read Gallagher Girls, Lovely pointed out that the middle name I gave Bobby Bishop in the previous chapter, Morgan, is also Cammie's last name. o-o It's funny because I was browsing Gallagher Girls/Heist Society crossover stories and there was one where Bobby Bishop is Cammie's dad. Haha, Lovely, you have a good eye, but I assure you that it was totally accidental move on my part :D**

**Anyway, for those of you who have been asking about Nick, I have a lovely gift for you. ;) Guess who's in this chapter?**

* * *

4 Days Until Deadline

(Still in) Wyndham Manor, England

While Gabrielle coped with this sudden turn of events by shutting herself in her room all day, the boys played pool. (To their defense, they had worked all morning: Simon had tried to find an opening in the Henley's security system, and the Bagshaw brothers and Hale worked on a model and created blueprints of the Henley)

Hale had never been particularly good at eight-ball and the nagging feeling in his stomach didn't help. He knew it was all connected—Kat's lateness the day before, her distracted expression, the manila envelope, her trip to Paris, and Bobby Bishop's arrest—but for everyone's sake, he hoped what he suspected was wrong.

But, of course, as Kat came in with Gabrielle (who looked like she _really_ needed that hair stylist), Hale knew that it was futile hope.

"She did the right thing," he spoke up after several outcries met Kat's confession. From Kat's face, it hadn't been an easy decision to make—when was it ever easy to rat on your own dad? Hale had tipped off his dad's unscrupulous exchanges enough times to know the feeling of guilt and familial betrayal that was on Kat's face. "If this doesn't work—and it'd kinda be a miracle for it to work…then your dad's gonna need as much standing between him and Arturo Taccone as possible."

Pleading blue eyes were on him. _I'm sorry_, they seemed to say. Hale wasn't completely forgiving her for leaving, but he had offered a peace token by standing up for her. He could feel those beautiful blue eyes melting away his anger and frustration, and he was almost starting to believe that they could work out their issues; they could be the best friends they used to be and maybe even become _more_…

And when a dark-haired, blue-eyed boy Hale had never met or seen before appeared in the doorway, Hale was reminded yet again of Kat always made her own moves.

"Who's this new guy?" He knew the new boy had now shifted from studying the room to studying him, but the only person Hale had eyes for was Kat.

"Hi, I'm Nick. Kat told me—"

"To wait outside," Kat finished, glaring at the boy when he took a few steps forward.

Hale willed her eyes on him. _You owe me an explanation. _

"Nick's a pocket man. He and I…_bumped_ into each other in Paris." Hale waited impatiently as Kat introduced the new boy to the members of the crew. "And this is Hale," Kat finished. "Hale's—"

"Hale's wondering exactly what _Nick's_ doing here."

_Finally_, since the appearance of the new boy, Kat looked him in the eye. "You said it yourself, Hale. We need one more."

"Two more," Hale corrected. "Actually, I said we needed two more, and he—"

"He's in," Kat said flatly. "We can do it with seven. And he's in."

Hale felt rage simmering inside of him. He _hated_ that voice and she knew it. It was the voice she always used when she tried to boss people around—and it usually worked too. It made the Bagshaw brothers look away and out the window, it made Simon shift uncomfortably on the couch, and even Gabrielle was silent. It was like there was some rule that said you weren't allowed to argue with Katrina Bishop.

Of course, Hale was very good at breaking rules. As his anger rose higher and higher—did Kat think she could just leave, bring home some new kid, and make them accept him? Who did Kat think she was?—he had to clench his fists to hold back from exploding. Finally, he controlled himself enough to speak. "I knew it. I knew I should have gone with you. First you tell some phony story about your dad to the police—"

"Interpol," Hamish, Angus, and Simon interjected.

"And then you come home with this?" Hale gestured to the new boy with a flick of his hand and glared at Kat. A part of his mind suggested that the reason why he was so mad, why he was madder at Kat than he'd ever been, was because he was jealous that she ran away from him and into the arms of some cute little French boy. The rest of his mind told that part to shut up.

"Can I see you outside for a second?" Kat was glaring back with equal fervor. Hale followed her out the room and onto the veranda, welcoming, _relishing_ the upcoming fight.

"You're too close to this one, Kat. You're way too involved to think—"

"I know," she practically yelled. "I am close. This is my life, Hale. Mine. My father. My job. My responsibility."

Hale wanted to tell her that it didn't have to all her responsibility; she had _him_. She had her family. But as usual, she would never have it—it was always _her_, _her_, _her_. Well, he was tired of her nonsense. "Clearly."

"I know what I'm doing, Hale." She was using that voice again.

"Really? Because I could swear that in the past twenty-four hours you've turned your father in—"

"Five minutes ago you thought that was a great idea."

"—to the cops, and brought home a stranger."

"Nick's good, Hale. He picked me clean and I never saw it coming."

"Uncle Eddie's not here," she snapped. "Uncle Eddie isn't going to be here." Her voice cracked. Hale used this to plead with her, beg her to at least listen to her great-uncle even if she was going to listen to no one else. He suddenly wished he had sided with Gabrielle when Uncle Eddie told them it was over. Maybe it was never about Kat's _abilities_. Maybe Uncle Eddie had known that Kat wouldn't be able to handle her _emotions_, had predicted that she would be reckless, rash, spinning out of control. "Uncle Eddie would stop you."

Her tone was frosty when she said, "So that's what you're going to do? Stop me?"

He met her defiant blue eyes and immediately rose up to the challenge. "Maybe I should. This guy is—"

"What, Hale?" Kat shouted. "What is he exactly?"

"He's not part of the family."

"Yeah, well—" Kat sighed and there was a sadness in her eyes that told Hale she was going to strike the final blow, she knew it would hurt him, and yet she was going to do it anyways. "Neither are you."

When she left, Hale partly unbuttoned his coat and took out a large manila envelope from an inner pocket. He was quivering, partly from the cold, partly from Kat's words. He needed something, _anything_ to distract him from the deep pool of hurt that was threatening to pour out. So he jerked open the flap, nearly ripping it, and stared at the full-color, high-resolution photos that came tumbling into his hand.

* * *

**Wow, angry Hale. :o I've always felt like Hale had anger issues, though, and this was a fun chapter to write.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Quick shout-out to all those who pointed out little typos in the previous chapters! I fixed them, but if it weren't for you guys, I probably wouldn't have caught them, so thanks so much!**

* * *

"Mr. Hale, I assure you we at the Henley use only the most state-of-the-art protection measures," Gregory Wainwright prattled on.

It was day two of scouting the Henley, and Hale was assuming the role of his birthright: W.W. Hale the Fifth, belonging to the distinguished family of billionaires and heir to a multibillion-dollar empire.

When it was put like that, Hale couldn't begrudge Kat the truth in what she had said.

"_He's not part of the family."_

"_Neither are you."_

Stop it, Hale told himself. His exchange with Kat had been echoing in his mind ever since last night. That's why he had been more than a little eager to participate in today's list of charades. As he had learned from Kat, jobs were a good distraction. It didn't matter what he was feeling or thinking; as long as he put a good pretense, he was good to go.

"We have hosted some of the finest works from some of the world's finest families," the director went on.

Honestly, Hale's boredom and indifference were becoming more of a reality than a façade.

It was an easy job, with a bumbling suck-up like Gregory Wainwright. The man rambled on without needing encouragement and somehow managed to miss seeing what was right in front of him. This allowed Hale to complete his tasks rather mechanically.

Sticking the piece of tape on the latch, Hale cast a quick glance at Kat, who met his eyes with a sort of intensity from down the hall. He felt his stomach drop. The downside to Gregory Wainwright's imperceptiveness was that it left Hale's mind free to ponder about a certain girl.

The morning had held more than a little awkwardness. He suspected Simon, Gabrielle, and the Bagshaw brothers had overheard his conversation with Kat (eavesdropping was a notorious habit that ran in the Bishop family), as they had spent most of the breakfast trying to get Hale to speak to Kat and vice versa.

Hale had focused on ignoring Kat. On the outside, he tried not to show that he was affected, but on the inside, he was still hurt.

On the outside, he was a Hale. His name and demeanor practically oozed confidence. But on the inside, he was just a scared little boy.

He had run away from his world to hers. And now she was telling him what he had feared, that he didn't belong in hers either.

"I'm afraid I have a rather urgent ten o'clock meeting with our head of security," Gregory Wainwright said, cutting through Hale's thoughts. "I can assure you, our acquisitions department is used to accommodating almost any request, so if you're ready to begin the paperwork, perhaps we should—"

"Stall," Hale could hear Kat whisper through his earpiece. To Gregory Wainwright, he said, "Oh, I'm not here to start the paperwork."

The museum director laughed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, sir. I was under the impression that you would like to place your family's Monet on temporary exhibit at the Henley."

"No," Hale corrected, "I don't _want_ to place my family's Monet at the Henley."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hale. I'm afraid I'm quite confused, sir. You're here because…" the director prodded.

Hale suddenly felt tired. "Of Kat."

She could hear him through the comms unit, he knew. And even as he spun his cock-and-bull story about cats to appease the idiotic director, he felt it was worth it, to say it out loud for once.

Until he and Gregory Wainwright turned the corner.

And came face to face to the girl he had always loved in the arms of another.

* * *

Even as he watched Kat pace about the room and declare another one of her ridiculously ingenious schemes, as he watched her watch the small party going around them, the image of her kissing Newbie flickered in his head like a scene paused in a horror movie.

His first instinct had been to lunge forward, shove Newbie away from Kat, and strangle him right then and there. But then he had realized that Kat was kissing Newbie back. It had not been an unwelcome kiss.

So Hale did what he did best: he pretended.

He continued walking and promised Mr. Wainwright that he would send the paperwork ASAP tomorrow, he ignored Newbie as he always did, and he talked to Kat like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn't stomped on his heart not once, but twice now.

Hale gazed at the party before him. Simon had asked Gabrielle to dance (Hale secretly suspected Gabrielle had a soft spot for the tech boy) and the Bagshaw brothers tangoed around the room. And in the corner, Kat and Newbie were chatting like old friends.

He looked away. Maybe, if Newbie wasn't here, he and Kat would be dancing too.

"You look like you just swallowed a lemon." Gabrielle perched herself on the left arm of Hale's chair. "Whole. With a little pepper sprinkled on top."

"Thanks, I think I get the description," Hale said dryly.

"Not in the mood for par-_tay_ing?"

"What do you think?"

"I think," Gabrielle drawled, "that you're letting Kat's new _friend_ get to your head."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hale said.

"Oh, Hale, honey. You should know by now that denial doesn't solve anything."

"Maybe I'm just suffering from a case of severe boredom," Hale suggested. "Gregory Wainwright passed it on to me. Symptoms include exhaustion and implosion of the brain."

Gabrielle ignored him. "You know, I have to give it to Kat. At least she picked out a cutie. Gorgeous eyes, thick wavy hair that I would give anything to run my hands through…"

"Gabrielle."

"What? Brits are da bomb."

"Not. Helping."

"Well, you're one-sixteenth British, right? That should count for something." Gabrielle leaned closer to Hale. "But no matter how British he is or how absolutely ravishing his looks are, he's not you."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious."

"I'm serious. I heard what Kat told you last night." Hale winced, but Gabrielle pushed on, "Don't listen to her. You know how sometimes she says things without thinking. She's stubborn on getting her way, and I love her for it, but sometimes she doesn't see how she really hurts people with the things she says and does.

"You _are_ one of us, Hale. You've stuck with us—with our family, with Kat, for so long. It doesn't matter what boy drops in on Kat's life. Soon, she'll realize that it's you who has been here for her the whole time and you two will finally come to your senses and hook up and the rest of us won't have to deal with this constant sexual tension that follows you two wherever you go."

Gabrielle was looking at him so intently that Hale had to smile. "And here I thought you were supposed to be a ditzy blonde."

The European beauty flicked her long hair back. "I like to change it up sometimes."

"Thanks, Gab."

She gave him a dirty look. "I told you not to call me that. Now get your lazy man-butt off that chair and dance with me."

Hale put an arm around Gabrielle's waist and led her to the dance floor. He owed her something, after all. So he twirled her and dipped her and found that he was actually having fun. He caught Kat looking on and gave her a smile, which she returned tentatively. He would corner her afterwards, when the party settled down.

He let Simon dance with Gabrielle after two songs. (The techie was _so_ into Gabrielle. How could Hale have failed to notice earlier?) They had just been about to toast Uncle Eddie, as they always did before a heist to bring good luck, when Newbie asked the shocking question.

"Who's Uncle Eddie?"

Hale had to hide a smirk when he saw the reactions of the others. "Such a newbie" he heard Gabrielle mutter. Simon said something similar, only using the word "ignoramus", and the Bagshaw brothers flat-out gaped.

Hale had never heard of the "King of Criminals" either until he met Kat, but those in the thieving family had been born hearing about the legendary character. To them, Uncle Eddie was like a god. They revered him, they followed him around like a pack of puppies, they aspired to be him (or at least get as close as possible because there would always be only one Eddie).

It was with amusement that he watched their attempts to describe Uncle Eddie and their family. The bewilderment on Newbie's face was growing every second. If Hale didn't dislike him so much, he might have felt sorry for him. It had taken him four years to really understand Kat's family. Even now, he had no clue how big the thief empire was.

"We can draw you a diagram if you need it," he finally told Newbie.

"No thanks," the British boy retorted. "I think I've got everyone but you."

"Oh. That's simple," he said, catching Kat's eye. "I'm the guy who happened to be home the night Kat came to steal a Monet."

* * *

Around ten o'clock, Simon, Gabrielle, and Nick went to bed. The Bagshaw brothers finally stopped dancing and went to the living room to play video games. While everyone else was busy with "good nights", Kat made her disappearance through the back door—the one that led to the back garden. Hale followed her.

He found her staring at the statue of Prometheus. Prometheus, who had been known for his trickery and his legendary thievery of fire from the gods (which had earned him a lifetime of punishment, but Hale didn't want to think about how painful liver regeneration must be).

He strolled forward until he was side-by-side with Kat. "I wouldn't try stealing that, if I were you."

"The weight would make it hard."

"You'd need a crane," he told her. "Cranes are loud."

"And big," she added.

"They leave nasty tracks all over gardens," Hale continued, feeling a smirk come onto his face. "And quads."

Kat's lips turned up. Without thinking, Hale slipped his hand around hers. Her fingers were icy cold. He wanted to rub her hands between his, to get some warmth back into them, but instead, he remembered something that was long overdue.

When his hand fell back to his side, he had left a surprise present in Kat's hand. "I found these, by the way."

The glance Kat gave the manila envelope was mixed with surprise and dread. "How did you…"

"Under the rug in your bedroom, Kat? Really?" Hale wondered if she had gotten the idea from some cheesy spy movie. "For an excellent thief, you really are a terrible hider."

When she didn't open the envelope, he took it back and slipped out one of the photos. "This one of me is especially nice. It captured my good side."

"I didn't notice you had one," she replied, almost automatically. Hale realized that he had missed the easy teasing—or, as Gabrielle would argue, _flirting_—between them.

"Oh, I think you noticed." He stepped closer. Kat's beautiful eyes widened as they gauged the miniscule amount of space left between them.

"Hale—"

"If I kill Taccone, would that help your dad?" It was meant to be a joke, but it came out half-serious. "Marcus would do it. I've always told him his job description was up for modification. Or Gabrielle? She's got this nail file—thing's like a switchblade."

Kat rolled her eyes. "And you've seen a lot of switchblades on Martha's Vineyard?"

"Hey, the Yacht Club loves a good rumble." He willed Kat to laugh, but instead she simply looked at him. Anxiety and concern filled Hale when he saw the exhausted lines under her eyes. He reached for her arm and opened his mouth—later, he wouldn't be sure whether he was going to ask her if she was okay, if she had enough sleep, or tell her not to worry, that she had him and the rest of the crew. Or maybe he had wanted to beg her not to be so withdrawn and unattainable, to open up to him like she had before she left for Colgan.

But before he could speak, Kat blurted, "Why are you doing this, Hale?"

"What?" he said, distracted by how she was subtly inching away from him.

"You could do anything," she said softly, averting her eyes from his. "Why are you doing this?"

"I always wanted to do the Henley," he joked.

Kat snapped her head up and gave him a frustrated look. "Can you be serious for a second?"

Again, possible responses clogged up Hale's throat. He could lie and assure her that he was perfectly serious, that he was in for the thrill. Or this could be his opportunity to confess how deeply, utterly he was in love with her.

When came out was "Dance with me."

"What?" she said, but he had already snaked his left hand around her waist and his right on her hand.

"Dancing. Come on. You can do it. It's a lot like navigating through a laser grid. It requires rhythm." He moved her hips to the beat of the distant music. "And patience." He spun her out slowly and back toward him. "And it's only fun if you trust your partner."

The dip was slow, far slower than the one he had given Gabrielle. Kat didn't even see it coming. Hale met her half-panicked eyes and put a finger across her parted lips when she tried to speak.

"Count me in, Kat. You should always count me in."


End file.
